Survival Guide to the Zombe Apocalypse
by TwitchingHades
Summary: HAITUS; POSSIBLY DISCONTINUED. Follow Sammy Greyson on her trip across the country in the zombie apocalypse. Watch as she fights against all odds in the name of friendship, love, and survival. Strongly OC-centric. Eventually Daryl/OC. Slow burn.
1. Chapter 1

_*Any separate paragraph written in italics is written in the notebook._

This story may hit a fork in the road later on at the point of meeting the WD crew, for purposes of perhaps creating an original Zombie Apocalypse story. Only the fanfic version will be posed on here, though.

Eventually DarylOC. There may be more pairings involving OCs, but that is the only one thus far.

I do not own anything from the Walking Dead. However, I do claim that at least 90% of the first 9 chapters is completely original.

Enjoy!

* * *

 _Survival Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse_

 _By Sammy G._

 _Chapter one: The Beginning of the End._

 _The key to surviving any zombie apocalypse is your team. Ideally, you want a leader, a medic, a fighter and a thief; those four types of people would provide the most useful skill sets in your future endeavors. But you have to be careful who you pick. Sometimes I wonder if people aren't worse than the zombies. Sometimes, I know they can be..._

* * *

The girl with short, chestnut-brown hair worried her thumb nail as she glanced up through the windshield of her car. Only a few cars away came the murmurs and whispers from a group that had formed nearby. Amidst all the panic, the highways were congested with cars and many people had vacated their vehicles for the comfort that company seemed to provide. Samantha Greyson was no exception. She would never admit it aloud, but she got some comfort in the fact that someone might have her back if things went south.

More importantly, though, the girl now had an opportunity. She needed to find herself a team. So she closed the little notebook quietly and secured the latch that held it shut before stuffing the item into the pocket of her blue jeans and standing. She made sure that the knife stashed in her belt loop was secure and hidden beneath her jacket. No need to cause further panic over something as small as a kitchen knife, but there was no way she was going unarmed. Not after the things she had seen.

Satisfied that she was presentable enough, she shut her car door as quietly as she could. The click could still be heard vividly in the cool air of the evening. She swallowed down her nerves and made her way over to the group.

"Evening," she greeted quietly, earning at least a short glance from every person there. "Does anyone know exactly what's going on here?"

Silence followed her question. Glances passed between the group, as though they were all asking the same question. It was several long seconds before someone answered. A burly man with dark auburn hair receding along the top of his head and seeming to transfer down his face.

"Looks like the end of the fuckin' world to me," he said gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"James, don't say that," the middle aged woman sitting beside him protested.

"Well, what would you call it, Linda?" the man barked back to, presumably, his wife. "I've seen people die and come back to life, then proceed to rip other people to shreds! The fuck is that, if not the end of the world?"

Linda just stared at him in disbelief, but she knew she didn't have an argument. It was the end if the world. The end of their world, at least. Everything would change so fast it would make their heads spin. Even if the government managed to set up settlements safe from the outbreak, nothing would be the same.

"Sorry I asked," Sammy muttered, trying to make light of the situation as she stuffed her hands in her pockets. She ran her fingers along the small notebook, the matte covering on it doing little to sooth her nerves. "Well, if anyone needs anything, I'm just in that car right over there." She pointed out her little, silver Chrysler as she took a step away from the group.

"The fuck are you going to do if we _need_ something?" James asked, glaring the girl down.

Sammy stopped, not even flinching as she returned the man's gaze. "Help." Her voice was sharp and unwavering. She sounded so confident that the man kept whatever remark he had to himself. Without another word, she turned on her heel and made her way back to her car. Though she may have seemed confident to the group that watched her depart, there was a storm brewing inside the young woman.

* * *

 _Ideally, you want to stick with friends. People that you know will risk their life to save yours and vice versa. But, things don't always work out the way you want them to. So, stick with people who will help you survive. Avoid people who will get you killed. That feeling in your gut when you meet someone, the feeling that tells you that a person is bad news, it's called instincts. Never ignore that feeling. It can save your life just as easily as a knife or a gun._


	2. Chapter 2

Posting another chapter. Because I'm _excited_ about this story. And that's what happens when I get excited about a story; I spam chapters on here because I write so much in one go... But, I'll refrain and try to keep ahead of the curve from now on, that way the longest you'll hopefully go without an update is a month and not a year... :0 I'll try for weekly updates.

I do not own anything from the Walking Dead.

* * *

 _Chapter two: Safety First_

 _Largely populated areas are not safe. Namely, large cities and __highways blocked off for miles_ _. Avoid sleeping in these areas, or spending prolonged periods of time there._

* * *

Sammy lay in the back seat of her car, trying to stay out of sight as the undead creatures forced their way through the abandoned vehicles. Her car shook every time a zombie was knocked into the large, metal object, and Sammy's breath hitched just slightly every time. She strained her ears, barely making out the sound of screaming passed the moans and growls of the undead.

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, knowing that if she tried to so much as move, she might not even make it out of her car. The screams continued, drawing the zombies to the noise. Even after the screams died into silence, they still paraded around blindly, driven by nothing but the instinct to find their next meal.

It was several minutes before the rocking of her car died down. There were still a few stragglers, but Sammy decided it was safe to sit up and peak out her window. No sooner than the outside light hit her eyes did a zombie throw itself against her car. Sammy stumbled back, her heart pounding at the fight the creature had given her. Moments later, more piled up on the side of her car, gnawing at the metal and glass in hopes of breaking their way in.

* * *

 _Never let your guard down. Death could be creeping around every corner. Often times, when people think they're safe is when they die._

* * *

Sammy secured her bag around her shoulders and made sure she had her knives on her. She moved as quickly and quietly as she could manage, pushing the opposite door open and jumping out of her car. She slid slightly on the downward slope that was the side of the highway, but managed to catch herself before she took a tumble down. She clung to the dead grass beneath her and watched the hoard as it walked away, back toward the town they had all left. Slowly, she made her way around to the front of her car, her knuckles turning white with the force she held her knife. She didn't see any living humans around. Just the undead stragglers, five of which were rubbing their torn flesh along her car to get to her.

"That's disgusting," she said quietly as she watched the dark red streak grow against the silver. "I just had that washed; it hasn't even been a week." She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and, quickly, she grabbed the closest one to her and dug her knife into the man's skull.

Not waiting to see if it worked, she pulled her knife back and shoved the body toward the side of the road. It rolled down into the ditch and came to a rest several feet below.

Sammy backed away from the other four in front of her. She bit her lip as she glanced around, noticing that the persistent growling had caught the attention of a few more. She went at another, getting a clean stab in its head and disposing of it the same as her first. The third lunged at her, and she barely managed to catch it before its jaw met with her face. She held it back with one hand, using her other to drive the knife in once more. The creature just growled loudly at the attack, but continued its advances.

Sammy strung together a colorful choice of words as she pulled the blade out and tried again, this time killing the creature. The fourth was right on top of her now, and she fell back as she tried to keep it away, neglecting to get her knife back. Sweat beaded against her forehead as she fought with the zombie above her. She pulled a second knife out of its spot on her waist, and managed to slip it into the creature's eye. It stopped moving just as the final one in the group fell on top of them both.

Sammy grunted under the weight, trying to pry the zombie off of her as it growled and snapped at her. A gunshot rang in her ear, and the creature went limp. Looking up, Sammy saw a thin Latino woman, her hands shaking as she lowered her gun. The woman offered a small grimace of a smile, but the growling from an approaching zombie reminded them both that they didn't have time to waste. The Latino kicked one of the zombies off while Sammy crawled out from under them. After retrieving her favorite knife, Sammy followed the woman farther away from town.

* * *

 _If someone sticks their neck out to save you, they're probably worth sticking with. They're more likely to risk their lives for you if they've already put an effort into keeping you alive once. Don't hesitate to return the favor. It is how_ _everyone survives_ _._

* * *

It wasn't long before the two women met up with another small group that had survived the hoard. Sammy recognized a few faces from the night before. James was unmistakable even at a distance, his body looming over the others with ease. The other two, a scrawny man who couldn't be older than 19 and a frail looking woman around the same age, she hadn't met from the same group. One more man stood with them that she hadn't seen before, short and bulky but looking the most worried of the bunch as he ran his hands through his dark curls.

"You guys okay?" Sammy asked as they approached. It felt like such a stupid question to ask, but it was the only thing she could think of to ask.

"No, no I'm not okay," James hissed, glaring daggers at the girl.

Sammy's eyes widened as she realized that the woman that had been with him the night prior was missing.

"Linda?" She recalled the name, and the dangerous look that crossed the man's eyes told her that her suspicions were right. "Where did you last see her, maybe we can backtrack and.."

"She's fucking dead!" James interrupted, pain flashing across his face. He turned around and slammed his fist into a car, leaving an impressive dent at the action. "Those fuckers! I saw them tear her apart, and she was screaming, but.." His voice trailed off, and silence met him.

"There's nothing you could have done," the shorter man reassured him quietly.

"I could have stayed!" He cried. "I could have helped her!"

"Even if you managed to kill all those things, and she didn't turn into one herself, she still would have bled out!" The man countered, trying to stay calm in the tense situation. "We're nowhere near a hospital, and even if we were I doubt anyone there could help her because they're probably all dead!"

A loud smack rung out, and everyone froze. The short man was now on the ground, holding his face as he groaned in pain. James massaged his knuckles, which were now covered in blood from punching both the car and the man.

Sammy was the first to move, going to stand between the burly man and his target. She held up her hands in a non threatening manner. "James, that's your name, right?" The man just clenched his jaw tightly in response. "My name is Sammy. I know that you just lost someone important to you, and I'm sorry, but we have to keep moving. We need to stick together, and if you really feel like beating the shit out of something, I would happily back you up while you beat a zombie to death. But we can't start fighting each other, or we're all dead." The look in her eye and the seriousness of her tone seemed to reach him. He huffed quietly and turned away.

Sammy watched him cautiously for several seconds before turning to the other man and helping him off the ground. The man chuckled quietly as he dusted himself off.

"Aren't you the little peace keeper?" He joked, holding his hand out to her. "I'm Aaron Domingo," he introduced with a charming smile passed his swollen cheek.

"Sammy," the woman replied, giving his hand a quick shake.

"Just Sammy?" the man pushed, looking a little put off at the response she gave; or lack thereof.

"Given the circumstances..." she glanced around, her eyes picking up the zombies that were scattered about, "does it really matter?" Her eyes locked on to his and, though a smile adorned her face they both knew that this was no joking matter.

"You said you'd cover me?" James interrupted gruffly, giving Sammy a strange look before he made his way off the road and to a zombie several yards away. "Cover me."

Sammy followed after him, making sure her extra knives were in place as they went. The man grabbed the creature and started wailing on it. The growls and grunts from the undead creature mingled with the shouts of the enraged man. Sammy stayed close, taking out any zombies that got too close.

* * *

 _Don't start fights with your team. Just don't. Kill as many zombies as you can; as you want. That's just less that the world has to deal with. Don't go about it like an idiot, though. Use your common sense when it comes to these things. If you lack common sense, try saying what you're going to do out loud and counting to ten. That makes it a little easier to realize if your plan is stupid as fuck._


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter three: Traveling_

 _Traveling will always be a must. The chances of finding a safe place is slim to none out here. So, a few tips for you:_

 _Pack light. Only take what you absolutely need. This includes food, water and weapons. Clean clothes, if you have room, but they're not that important anymore. If you have a sentimental item, it's probably best not to stay attached to it. If it won't get you killed, by all means take it with you. If you'd risk your life to save an inanimate object, you should just leave it behind._

Sammy snapped her journal shut, staring down at the item in thought as she ran a finger over the coarse, black cover. Was this item so precious to her that she would die for it? No, she knew that she could leave it behind if need be. Maybe someone would stumble upon it one day and get some use out of it. She could find another notebook to fill with her thoughts and tips, surely. And it wouldn't kill her to not be able to write it all down.

"Hi," a feminine voice cut into Sammy's thoughts. Her eyes darted up to meet the Latino woman that had saved her earlier that day. Her gaze softened slightly, sending a smile to the woman standing over her. The group had eventually relocated farther away from the highway and set up camp. Someone stated a small fire, and everyone settled nearby for the night.

"I'm Carla," the woman introduced, returning the smile and sitting beside the brunette on the ground.

"Sammy," she returned as she went to put her journal away.

"So I've heard," Carla laughed quietly, but the sound held little joy. "What's that you've got there?" She nodded toward the book that Sammy was in the process of slipping into her pocket.

"Nothing, really," Sammy replied, slowly bringing the book up to observe it herself. "Just a notebook. Jot down my thoughts and ideas.."

"Like a diary?" Carla laughed. It ticked her pink, thinking that someone could hold on to a diary at a time like this.

Sammy laughed quietly in return and slipped the item into her pocket. "It's more like a 'Zombie Apocalypse Survival Guide'," Sammy corrected with a shrug.

Carla's cheerful demeanor faded as quickly as it had come. "Oh." She sounded more surprised than anything. "That actually sounds like a good idea. Tips on how to survive... But, how do you know what will help you survive?"

"I've survived this long," Sammy said with a shrug, sending a smile to the woman beside her. "Partly thanks to you. Thank you, for saving my ass earlier." She rubbed her neck, staring towards the fire and watching as red danced against the darkness of the night. "I honestly thought I was a goner just before you showed up."

"Yeah, no problem." Carla let out a nervous laugh, her hands trembling sightly at the memory. It was the first one she's killed, but she was certain it wouldn't be the last. "Just promise you'll do the same for me, if the opportunity arises."

"Of course," Sammy promised with a small smile. The rest of the night passed in relative silence, but both girls knew they had just made a friend they could count on.

 _Always make sure your ready to leave at the drop of a dime._

Rustling woke Sammy up before the sun peaking over the horizon could. She sat up, inhaling sharply as she reached for her knife. She heard the groan before a zombie pushed its way passed a thicket of bushes and into their encampment. Sammy was on her feet in a second, taking a few more seconds to regain her bearings.

A shot rang out, and Sammy nearly jumped out of her skin as the bullet whizzed passed her. Another was shot before the creature fell. Silence followed, everyone awake now and on alert. Another groan came from nearby. Sammy was the first to make a move. She grabbed her bag, throwing it over her shoulder and going to the fire to kick out what was still smouldering of it.

"We have to go," she said, her voice quiet but her tone harsh. "Now."

No one argued as they quickly packed up their belongings and followed the girl, who had already made her way out of the makeshift camp.

 _You never know when you'll be pushed out of your home._


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter four: Supplies._

 _There will come a point in time when you and your group are running low on supplies. Hungry people will make for a much more hostile working environment. Try not to let it get to you, don't take everything to heart. Don't disregard threats, either, though. Example, if someone has been traveling non stop for three days and hasn't eaten in two, your left leg might seem really appetizing to them; if they're threatening to eat you and aren't even trying to hide it, you should probably defend yourself against them. They will probably eat you._

Sammy was digging through her bag as she walked at the back of the group. Her stomach growled painfully, but she ignored it and continued digging. She managed to scavenge four granola bars out of it, smiling at her accomplishment. Then she started counting heads.

Sammy, Carla, Aaron, James, Glenda, and Mark.

Deciding to make it easier and conserve food for later, she dropped one back into her bag. "Hey, guys," she called quietly. Everyone was still on high alert, so their eyes all darted to her. "I found some food. If we split it equally, everyone gets half a bar."

James moved first, stepping up to Sammy and snatching one out of her hand.

"She said half, you over-grown ape," Carla hissed.

"Just try and stop me," James said, venom dripping from his voice as he glared Carla down.

The Latina woman felt for the gun that rested at her hip. She slipped her hand around it, ready to pull it out if James made a move at her.

"It's fine," Sammy said quickly, holding her hand out to keep Carla still. She sent a small smile to the burly man in front of her. "He can have my half. I'm not that hungry."

James scoffed like a primate who had just won a battle, taking long strides to his place at the front of the group. The others were much more compliant, breaking the bars in half and sharing.

"Shoulda' let me shoot the asshole," Carla muttered as she took her half from Sammy.

"Not worth it," Sammy stated, glancing at James. He was an ass, sure, but he could hold his in a fight. He was useful.

"Would've just shot him in the foot," she continued, looking disappointed at the fact that her new friend was against her shooting the brute.

Sammy laughed quietly, pulling out the fourth granola bar from her bag. "Like I said, not worth it."

Carla giggled as Sammy opened up the bar, making sure that the man at the head of the group heard the crinkling of the extra wrapper. She took a bite with a satisfied smile when she saw James turn to glance back at her. He looked livid but, like Sammy, he knew it wasn't worth it.

"I can't even be mad at you for that, you deserve that extra half," Carla said, trying to contain her giggles.

* * *

 _If your group is less than fair with their distribution of food, and you're not getting enough to keep your energy up, you can pull the lion tactic. In a pride of lions, the weaker males in the group will turn to trickery to get a little extra food, or a more desirable mate. It's actually a common occurrence in a lot of group-based animals. The point of the lesson is this: if you have more brains than brawn, use that to your advantage. Not just the physically strong survive.  
_

* * *

The group stumbled upon a farm. The fields were mostly bare, the crops still not far enough along to show more than the occasional sprout. They walked slowly along the fields, keeping their eyes open for any movement.

"This might be a nice place to stay," Glenda thought aloud, rubbing her arm as though a chill had hit her. With the heat of the desert sun beating down on them, she doubted that the temperature was a factor. "You could grow crops. They're already planted. And I'm sure there are farm animals nearby." Her bright hazel eyes scanned the area, looking akin to a doe scouting the perimeter for predators.

Sammy observed their surroundings. It was a relatively safe place, the large expanse of land surrounded by barbed wire. And the smell of manure hung in the air, meaning cows or horses couldn't be to far away.

"We don't know what kind of crops are planted," Sammy stated her doubts, gently kicking dirt near one of the sprouts. "Barbed wire fence doesn't take a lot to break. It'd have to be reinforced. Livestock might have been killed."

"As long as there aren't any zombie cows," Mark joked, the boy sending Glenda a goofy smile in hopes of getting a reaction out of her. The girl just offered a small, nervous smile in return before looking away.

Their walk continued in silence until they reached the house. James reached for the doorknob, but Sammy stopped him and checked the windows by the door for movement. When she was met with nothing but the stillness of the dark house, she gave him the okay.

They filled into the house in single file before splitting up. James, Sammy and Carla ventured through the house while the other three made a B-Line for the kitchen.

Sammy saw James walking through the hall. He threw opened doors with no reserve as he walked, and the noise gave Sammy an uneasy feeling. She followed after him, ready to lecture him on his noise level, when a zombie fell onto the brute.

Loud curses spilled from the man as he held its face away from him. He pulled an arm back in preparation. Sammy rushed toward him, her knives at the ready, but one solid punch to the face was enough to send the elderly zombie to the ground. It groaned, trying to crawl it's way toward them with its jaw hanging limply. Quickly, Sammy went to stab it in the head, breathing a sigh of relief when it went limp. She looked back to James to make sure he was okay, seeing him wipe the creature's blood off of his hand and smearing it along the bottom of his shirt.

Without a word, she walked into the room, and the brute followed her.

In the center of the room, there was a large bed, an old lady laying on it. She had a bullet hole in her head, and most of the bed was covered in blood. Sammy stood there, taking in the sight.

"The elderly were more prone to contracting the virus," Sammy stated, feeling the truth in her words more than knowing them. She stuffed her hands into her pockets, staring at the body of the old woman. The coarse cover of her notebook met her fingers, and she rubbed it absently. "Just like normal viruses, I guess."

She went silent again when James lifted the body off of the bed and took her to the hallway. He laid her against the wall, then proceeded to do the same with the man's body. When he finished, he stood at the door and looked at Sammy expectantly.

"This is my room, get out."

Sammy didn't argue as she scurried passed him. The door slammed behind her, causing the house to shake in response. Sammy stared at the wooden barrier in disbelief.

"Ass," she muttered, heading to the second floor, where she heard the thud of footsteps. She strode through the dark hallway as silently as she could, clutching at her knife. She opened one door, quick to scan the area before relaxing again. She turned to leave and jumped as she saw Carla standing there.

"I almost killed you," Sammy breathed out, her knife at the ready. Slowly she lowered her weapon and willed her heart to slow down. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"Sorry," Carla said with a laugh as she put her gun away. "I covered the second floor, there's no one up here."

Sammy nodded in response, going on to double check the rooms for zombies and supplies. "We found two on the first floor. Old farmers. That's probably all we'll find here." She descended back down the stairs, heading to another uncleared room. The den was the next area, complete with a fireplace. Hanging above the mantle was a sword. It was a thin double blade with a sleek white and gold handle. Sammy quickly rushed over, grabbing the item and pulling it off of its mount with ease.

"Dibs," she called, hearing Carla approach behind her. She grabbed the sheath, securing the item around her belt loop and smiling as she adjusted to the new weight on her hip.

"Nice sword," Carla said with a roll of her eyes. "Shall I start calling you 'Sir Sammy of the round table'?"

Sammy laughed, rubbing at the hilt of the sword. "Just 'Sir Sammy' will do." She vacated the room as Carla gave her a small chuckle in reply, circling back through to the kitchen.

"We hit the jackpot," Mark stated when the two girls joined them. They had jarred and canned foods spread over the counter tops, with a few meats and breads. Most of the items looked homemade, like pickled plumbs stashed away in a mason jar. Definitely food to last a while, and plenty that wouldn't go bad within the next week.

"Sweet." Sammy grinned at the pleasant surprise, her stomach seeming to communicate with her through a loud growl. "Why don't I start on dinner? Anyone want to help?"

"I will," Glenda offered, seeming relieved at the chance to do something normal amidst all their traveling and fighting.

"Alright," Sammy cheered. "How about you, Carla? Wanna make it a sexist event with just the women cooking?"

"Nah, I'll leave the stereotypes to you," Carla laughed. "Unless you want enchiladas, I can't do much else."

"I love enchiladas," Mark replied with a laugh as he and Carla headed into the living room to wait for food.

Sammy laughed quietly at the irony in her friend's words as she looked over their new food supply, separating it by what would go bad soonest. "Got any idea what we should cook?" She questioned the quiet girl.

"A soup would probably be best," Glenda replied, going in to grab something. "They have plenty of noodles."

"Chicken, noodles, veggies. Easy recipe for chicken noodle soup."

"Sounds good to me." Glenda said with a nod.

Sammy grinned as she started on the meal. "That's because it's a comfort food."

* * *

 _If it's not claimed, it's fair game. That's the rule I go by. Stores and such are good for searching for supplies, but they'll be the first to be cleaned out. The best place to scavenge would likely be deserted places in the middle of nowhere. Farmhouses, for example. Low population of people living there before the outbreak, means less zombies. Being so far out, it's unlikely that (if the original owners vacated) the area was ever found, meaning a higher likelihood of finding supplies or shelter._

 _A friendly reminder; never let your guard down.'_


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter five: Becoming a Survivor_

 _Details are important; always have been, always will be. Learn to pick up on little details, even things as simple as the way a person says something can help you figure out hidden meanings behind their words. The way leaves are shuffled on the ground, the way twigs snapped, you can learn how to track things or avoid zombies. Hunt. Survive._

* * *

Sammy sipped at the soup in her bowl quietly as she mulled over their next move. The way she saw it, they had one of two options. The problem was that neither of them were completely desirable to her.

"So what should we do?" Mark finally voiced the question on everyone's mind. Eyes shot around the room, some stopping on James while the others strayed to Sammy, looking for some form of leadership.

"Fuck if I know," James huffed, leaning back on his spot on the floor, arms resting behind his head. He sounded tired, but stuffed; considering the asshole finished off the last of the soup.

All eyes moved to Sammy, and she looked around in surprise. Surely she wasn't leader material, but here these people were; complete strangers, looking to her for guidance.

"Well," she started quietly, glancing away from the intense gazes that burned into her. "We could stay here, fortify our defenses, and try our hand at agriculture. But that would take a long time, and unless other survivors wonder in and help, I don't think it's something we could accomplish. Alternatively, we could stay here a few nights, recuperate from everything. Split the supplies among each other. Once we start running low on food, we take what's left and continue on."

Her thoughts were met with silence. She stared around at the scared faces again. Clearly, she wasn't one to invoke hope in others. Definitely not a leader.

"We can vote on it," Sammy suggested. "If anyone has any other ideas, feel free to share."

"I wanna stay," Glenda spoke up first, looking more than a little flustered. She sent a smile to Sammy. "I want to try my hand at agriculture. My grandpa was a farmer, so maybe it runs in my blood."

"I wanna stay, too," Mark stated, smiling at Glenda. The two obviously had some sort of relationship with each other before all of this, though Sammy didn't care enough to find out to what extent.

"I think we should leave," Carla stated after a moment of thought. "Like you said, Sammy; we would have to fortify the barbed wire, maybe even build walls. That alone would take a long time between the six of us, and we're likely to get overrun or run out of supplies along the way."

Sammy nodded to her friend in agreement. "I think we should leave." She turned her eyes to the burly man laying at the back of the room. "James?"

"Don't fuckin' matter," he muttered angrily.

Sammy glared slightly at the man before turning her attention to the last member of the group. "Aaron?"

The man twiddled his thumbs as he thought. "I think our chances would be better if we stay."

Sammy swallowed hard as she realized her preferred choice was outvoted. But she just nodded, accepting it. She didn't want to try to survive alone, and these people needed her help if they were to have any chance of building a settlement. "Then, I guess we're staying." She looked around at the tired smiles from the three that had won the vote. She stood up, rubbing the hilt of her blade. "You guys get some rest, I'll keep first watch." Her group complied, making themselves comfortable. James got up to head to his room, but Sammy followed after him, stopping him in the hallway. "Hey, you alright?" She kept her voice low, the man pulling his arm away from her touch before facing her.

"I'm fine," he replied, his voice gruff.

Sammy opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it and moved her eyes down. What was she supposed to say to him? 'Sorry you lost your girlfriend. Tough break. But people die, so man up.' That seemed like just the reason he needed to punch her teeth out.

"Night." James turned to leave, but Sammy stopped him again, her eyes now elsewhere. They were drawn to the nasty gash on his right hand, along his last three knuckles.

"You should clean up that cut on you hand," Sammy suggested, offering the man a smile. "It looks like it's starting to get infected. You'll find some medical supplies in the bathroom."

The man grunted out a response, ignoring her suggestion and going straight to his room. The door slammed, and the brunette flinched at the noise. She found herself muttering a string of curses defining the man as she sat in a good spot to watch over the group.

* * *

 _Alternatively, don't keep unneeded secrets. If you have something important that you're keeping from the group, something that could potentially get someone killed, don't keep it to yourself. Don't make your stupid quarrels or insecurities or doubts the reason for the extinction of the human race. Just don't._


	6. Chapter 6

**I give my thanks to the wonderful readers who reviewed, and I'm glad to know that people are enjoying this. I have so many chapters written out, so I'll continue posting pretty quickly until I slow down o3o (It probably won't be too long before I have to up the rating to M, though, so... . Fair reading to everyone).  
**

 **Enjoy 3  
**

* * *

 _Chapter six: Secrets_

Sammy had switched out at some point in the night, when her eyes felt so heavy she was afraid she might pass out if she tried to stay up any longer. She let Carla take the next watch, knowing the woman wouldn't protest. She took over the Latina's spot, falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She was ripped from her unconscious state by a scream. Everyone was on their feet in a second, weapons at the ready. but Carla was nowhere in sight, and Sammy held the hilt of her sword tighter as an uneasy feeling set in her stomach.

Sammy approached first, slowly and cautiously. She saw blood, trailing down the hall, the door to James' room wide open, and she had to stop her hand from shaking as she followed the trail. She stopped at the stairs, looking up into the impending darkness, but she heard nothing. The blood had thinned out considerably as she slowly followed the path up the stairs. She flinched as a step creaked beneath her feet, but she continued on. She checked the first room. Empty. The next was empty, as well. When she pushed open the third door, she saw a body slumped over on the floor.

"Carla," she breathed out, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes at the sight of her friend's dead body. There was still a threat in the house, she didn't have time to cry.

Sammy snapped her head around when she heard another yell. "Mark!" She recognized the boy's voice, her chest tightening at the thought that the others were in danger now. A growl in front of her stole her attention away. Carla stared up at her, her eyes void of life. She growled again, louder this time, and started crawling forward, her jaws snapping instinctively at the smell of a fresh meal.

Sammy swallowed again, willing her tremors away as she clenched the sword for dear life. Without another second of hesitation, she buried the blade through Carla's head. The body went limp, pulling Sammy with it as she tried to recover her sword. A sob escaped the girl's lips, but she bit down on the flesh to keep from crying. Slowly, she pulled the blade out and pulled herself to her feet. With a silent goodbye to her friend, Sammy rushed downstairs to find the other zombie and, hopefully, at least three living, unharmed humans.

She saw him before she reached the top if the stairs. James was crouched over Mark's body, snarling as he tore the boy's flesh from his bones and stuffed it into his mouth. Sammy froze at the sight, watching the scene. The only mark on the brute that Sammy could see was the cut on his hand. She suddenly remembered the slack-jawed zombie that the man had punched, wondering if he had been so dumb as to punch the creature in the mouth and infect himself.

"Idiot," Sammy sighed in astonishment, not sure if she was referring to the man's stupidity on infecting himself, or her own for not realizing it sooner.

James' undead body grunted, turning to Sammy and locking his sights on her. He got up and growled viciously as he tried to reach her. His feet, however, awkwardly hit the stairs and he fell forward, likely breaking his nose on the step that his face collided with.

Despite everything, Sammy couldn't help but laugh. Seeing the man stumble around so pathetically actually made her feel better, even if it wasn't really him. "Can't climb stairs?" She asked the creature mockingly. It glared up at her, growling as it starts pulling itself up the stairs. "I stand correct," Sammy muttered, the fear taking front and center again as the creature slowly ascended, getting a feel for how to climb faster. Another growl soon joined the chorus, and Sammy saw Mark's body move down the hall on the first floor.

Sammy waited until the right moment to drive her sword through James' head. His body rolled down the stairs, taking her sword with it and nearly Sammy, who tried to hold onto it. "Shit!" She cursed, her eyes trained on the weapon. She felt her body, hoping that she had a spare weapon on her, but she was met with nothing but clothing and quietly strung together a colorful line if curse words. Taking a deep breath, she looked around the first floor, moving cautiously so as not to draw another zombies attention. She reached the ground floor, no creatures in sight, and she started pulling the sword out of James' skull. The item didn't want to budge as she tugged at it, though. "Is it your swollen head, or your thick skull, I wonder," she mused aloud with a bitter laugh. Finally, the item popped out of his head, clattering to the ground as Sammy lost her balance.

Everything happened so fast. She heard the growl before she felt something grab her from behind. She tried to push away from it, but it had a hold on her, and both bodies fell to the ground.

Sammy grunted and kicked out at the creature, reaching for the discarded weapon only a few feet away while she tried to keep the zombie from biting into her. She felt the hilt of the sword at her fingertips, straining to grab it. Just a little farther.

The body above her went limp, and she saw one of her kitchen knives sticking out of Mark's head. With a breath of relief, she looked up at Aaron with grateful eyes. "You're okay," she breathed out, pushing the body off of her. She pulled the knife out and handed it back to him before retrieving her sword, wiping the drying blood off on James' shirt.

"Where are the others?" Aaron asked, giving a curt nod to her statement.

"Carla is dead," Sammy said quietly, only a light quiver in her hand giving away her emotion. "Glenda was with Mark, so I don't know." She looked over the body of the male teen with worry.

"We'll look for her," Aaron said, sounding as tired as Sammy felt. The woman offered him a tight-lipped smile before heading down the hallway. They were careful opening each door, checking the rooms.

"Glenda?" Aaron called out into the silence. A knock on a closed door was his reply. He breathed out a laugh, giving Sammy an excited look as he reached for the door.

"Wait," Sammy called out to him as she moved closer. But her warning was too little too late, as Glenda burst out of the room and onto Aaron. "Shit!" She moved quickly, plunging her sword into Glenda's head, the once sweet girl growling angrily until her breath died on her lips.

Aaron let out a noise between a whimper and a sigh as he backed away from the dead body. His hand flew to his shoulder as his back hit the wall, the old picture frames behind him shaking at the impact. He chanted the word 'no' over and over again as his body sank down the wall, the words broken by sobs.

Sammy realized quickly what had happened, and she rushed to Aaron's side. She moved his hand, seeing blood staining his shirt around the area that Glenda bit. Her spit seemed to get thicker as she swallowed, the man's quiet sobs doing nothing to ease the girl's emotions.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her vision blurred by tears. "I... I wasn't fast enough, I could have... I should have..." A sob broke her voice as Aaron shook his head.

"No, you can't blame yourself," the man said, seeming to come to terms with his situation. "I... I don't want to die, but... What kind of life is would I be living in this world? Maybe this is better..." He let out a wet laugh, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling as the tears flowed freely.

Sammy sniffed back her tears and nodded. She hugged the man's head against her chest, continuing to nod. "This is better," she whispered, gently stroking his hair. "This is better..." She sounded like she wasn't convinced herself, but it was all she could do to comfort the dying man in his last moments. After a moment of silence, she felt his body go limp in her arms. Only then did she allow the sobs to rip from her. She laid him down on the floor, taking her sword and sticking it into his skull, hoping that it kept him from turning. Her tears mingled with his blood as both pooled onto the floor hardwood floor.

* * *

 _I repeat: no secrets. If you're infected, tell someone. Better you die alone than kill four._

* * *

 **To Hurricane'97's question: Yes, James was infected, and I'm sorry that my foreshadowing skills are so terribly obvious x'D  
**


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter seven: Loneliness._

 _Traveling on your own isn't advisable, but sometimes it's unavoidable. Remember to stay quiet while traveling alone. You don't need to attract a hoard of zombies to you when you don't have backup. To avoid insanity from long periods without social interaction, try talking to yourself in third person. I know it sounds like a crazy thing to do, but it helps detach yourself from the situation, and God knows we all need a break from this situation every once in a while. Songs and lullabies have a calming effect to help reduce any feelings of sorrow from losing your group._

 _If you've ever lost someone, just remember that you're still here. Stay strong, you're a survivor._

* * *

Sammy sang quietly to herself as she made her trek along the highway. She saw a sign on the side of the road, quieting to silence as she approached.

"Star City, Arkansas, 15 miles," she read aloud. A smile pulled at her lips. "We're making good time, Sammy," she told herself proudly as she adjusted the straps on her bag. How long had she been on her own now? Weeks? Months? For all she knew and cared, it could have been a year. She really had no idea. But, she had stared out in southwestern Texas, so it was progress at least.

"I've never been to Arkansas before," she told herself as she continued walking along the road. She still had plenty of daylight left to spare, maybe she could find a safe place to stay for the night in town. "Could probably scrounge up some food. At the very least, get more supplies."

She was down to her last few cans of food. She had been rationing to one can a day at this point. Just enough to keep the hunger at bay, but not enough to keep the nagging feeling of an empty stomach away. Still, she would manage. She was a survivor.

The sun began sinking along the horizon as buildings came into view. Sammy sent a quick thanks to whatever deity may have been watching over her when she realized it was a small town. She wasn't sure she had the energy to run away from large hoards of zombies, and her feet ached from constantly traveling on foot. Despite her attempts, she was never able to figure out how to properly hot-wire a car. And you were lucky if you got a whole five minutes to try to figure it out before the biters started congregating toward the noise.

"Stupid assholes, trying to stop me from learning an important skill," she muttered angrily at the memories. She scanned the horizon, seeing roofs of houses nearby and heading there. The town was quiet and nearly empty, save for a few stray zombies that the girl avoided. It must have been evacuated relatively quickly. The lucky ones, perhaps. Or maybe they're all dead now. She wasn't so sure that being dead didn't make them luckier.

Digressing in her morbid thoughts, she looked around at the nice, little houses littering the neighborhood. She walked passed the houses with their doors wide open or cracked; it wouldn't do any good to have the barrier separating her from the flesh eating monsters damaged. Finally, she chose a house that looked good to her, knocking on the door with confidence. She was met with silence at first, then a few zombies wandering nearby caught sight of her.

She hopped off the porch, quickly dispatching the creatures with her sword, which she had become rather proficient with. After they were taken care of, she went to the door and tried opening it, only to find it was locked.

"Balls," she muttered in displeasure, but she was honestly expecting as much. Next, she tried the window that looked out over the porch, the glass panel sliding up. She smiled as she pushed it open, but the joy was saturated with disdain when she realized it wasn't clicking into place. With a quick breath to prepare herself, she used her sword to push the curtains away. She didn't see any movement from inside, so she slipped one leg in and eased the window down against her back as she shifted her weight and continued to pull herself in.

She panicked when she felt a hand grab her leg from outside, pulling her away from the safety of her new shelter. She hissed in pain as she pulled against the grip. Her shoe slid off of her foot as she broke free, the window slamming against the appendage before she managed to pull herself in completely.

Sammy took a moment to just lay on the floor and breath. She relished in another victory against the zombie scum, letting a low chuckle escape her lips.

"You can take my shoe, but I'll be damned if I let you take my life," she said into the silence before pulling herself up off the ground. She rolled her foot carefully, assessing the damage. It protested to the movement, but it was a bearable ache. Deciding she would survive the small injury, she unsheathed her sword and did a quick sweep of the house. After deeming the building safe, she worked on boarding up any unsafe entrances, then proceeded to raid the kitchen.

Most of the food in the kitchen was rotted, the smell hitting her nose as she approached the room. She made a face at the scent, but tried her best to ignore it. She turned on the faucet with little hope, sticking a cup underneath it to catch anything that might come out. It sputtered pitifully for several seconds before she gave up and turned it off. Finishing her raid of the kitchen, she found a few more cans if vegetables to add to her slowly diminishing collection. She picked something out at random, setting up in one of the bedrooms and barricading the door and window before enjoying her dinner.

"I should learn how to hunt," she decided, staring blankly at the wall across from her. A ripple of laughter escaped her at the thought. "Yeah right, like you'd be any good at hunting, idiot." She laughed at herself for a few seconds before quieting down again.

"I can't be any worse at hunting than I am at growing plants. Besides... What other choice do I have?" She sat in silence as she pulled out her journal again, skimming over what she had last written. She clicked the eraser on her mechanical pencil, realizing how low she was on lead. "I'm sure that most people aren't hoarding up on lead in the zombie apocalypse," she mused, biting the end of the pencil as she thought on it. "I'm sure I can find more somewhere in this town. Probably plenty in stores. I can stock up before I leave." With that decided, she pressed the lead to the paper.

* * *

 _I never said talking to yourself would prevent insanity. Just slow the process a bit. Hopefully enough so that you can function properly when you meet real, living people again._

 _Hang in there, Survivor._


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter eight: New Frenemies_

 _You never know what kind of people you'll meet on the road. Maybe some of them can help you. Maybe some of them want to hurt you. You always need to keep your guard up. The longer we're out here, the less human we become. When self-preservation is all that matters, even people you think might be good wont hesitate to turn against you._

* * *

Sammy sat in her newly acquired car, in the buttfuck of nowhere. She stared at the map in her lap in concentration, trying to figure out where she was and plan out where she needed to go. She had decided on a plan of action; try to meet up with a friend she knew in Virginia, then head to the east coast, and live in a yacht and fish all day long. It sounded like a great plan to her. She looked up at the sign that told her a town was a few miles ahead, her eyes narrowing at the thing like it offended her.

"The fuck is Cookeville?" Her voice was harsh and snippy, mostly from dehydration and sleep deprivation. She looked down at the map again, squinting her eyes at the small print and missing her reading glasses that she had left back home. The thud that came from just outside her car didn't even make the girl flinch. She looked up at the ghoulish creature with tired eyes. "You know where the fuck I am, buddy?" She questioned, almost as though she expected a different answer than the growl she received. She flipped it the bird before rolling her window down slightly and sticking her sword through the creature's head. "Yep, fuck you too, man," she growled as she watched the body slide down her car, smearing blood the entire way. She rolled up the window and return to her map, grinning in accomplishment when she found her location. "There you are, Cookeville, Tennessee! It looks like a pretty small town, so I'll check it out and see if I can scavenge anything useful."

She hummed a tune to herself as she started her car up again, driving into town. Her gas tank was practically running on empty at this point, and she prayed that she could find some gas to refill it. The town had more zombie activity than she had expected, given the size. She realized the reason when someone started pounding at the passenger side door.

"Help me, please let me in!" the man cried out, huffing for breath as he tried to open the door. Without a second thought, Sammy unlocked the door and the man practically threw himself in, the door shutting just in time to block the hoard of zombies that were after him. The car shook as they tried to claw their way in.

"Are you okay?" was the first thing that left Sammy's mouth. She looked the man over, noticing the sweat that coated his face and soaked into his hair and clothing. He must have been running for a while.

"I'm fine, now that I have a ride," the man said with a laugh. That sound sent shivers up Sammy's spine. All she could do was stare with wide eyes at the gun pointed at her. "Get out of the car."

Sammy's eyes lifted to meet his, seeing the same crazed look in his eye that she had felt so often during her travels. "Don't do this," she said, her voice calm. A warning. The man just cocked his gun to get his point across. "At least let me get my stuff." Her hand slowly moved toward her bag in the back seat.

"I said out!" the man yelled, making the walkers outside go crazy.

Without another word, Sammy climbed out of the car, her hands up in surrender as she backed away and watched him jump into the driver's seat. He slammed the door shut and sped off, leaving a hoard of at least fifteen zombies to stumble toward her. She was grateful that she had decided to keep the sword on her while driving, her hand instinctively grabbing for the hilt that rested at her waist.

"You wanna kill him, too, huh?" she questioned as she glanced at the dead eyes that stared her down. She clenched her teeth and unsheathed her sword, laughter bubbling up in her angry hysteria. "Well, too fucking bad, he's mine!" With that she proceeded to take out the hoard one by one, until the street was littered with the twice dead bodies and the black goo that could have once been called blood. Then she followed after her stolen car, seeing red. Not a single zombie got near enough to bite her as she mowed her way to her target.

She found her car a few miles outside of town, pulled into a long dirt road. At the end of the road was a decent sized house, barricades of wooden spikes surrounding it. Bodies littered the area around the small settlement, and Sammy hoped that she could at least have the satisfaction of stabbing the thieving man through the eye at least once while he could still fight back. She didn't terribly enjoy tearing up a dead body. She could live with undead.

As she approached her car, she noticed her bag was still in the back seat. She nearly leapt with joy as she pulled the handle, but the door didn't budge. She growled quietly and looked inside. Nothing had been removed, save for the man and his gun. She stared at the building ahead, worrying her lip between her teeth.

"Why'd you park so far out, buddy?" She questioned into the emptiness. "Scared of being spotted, you thieving rat?"

Sammy got onto the perimeter with relative ease. She almost expected a welcome wagon of guns and insults, but it was eerily silent. She wondered vaguely what had happened, but she continued sneaking around the area none the less. Better to be safe than sorry.

She spotted the man looking out a window of the house, a smirk pulling at her lips when he closed the curtains on the world outside. "Gotcha, you asshole," she muttered to herself as she made her way closer to the house. She saw bodies littering the porch. Three men, all with guns lying at their side. Only one of them had a bullet in their head, leading her to believe that none of them had been zombies. Sammy stared curiously at the weapons.

"Why wouldn't you take their weapons, rat boy?" she mused quietly, reaching down and taking one of the hand guns. The clip was only missing two bullets, and upon inspection of the man's body, she saw a decent amount of ammo for it. If he wasn't robbing them, why was he sneaking in here?

Curiosity getting the better of her, Sammy silently made her way into the building. She heard hushed whispers from a room nearby, and she snuck closer to hear the conversation.

"No, no, stay with me, Rebeca," the man whispered, his voice hoarse and wet as he tried not to cry.

"It's okay, Daniel." Rebecca's voice was soft and sweet, like an angel. But angels didn't survive on this planet. Not anymore. "It's okay. You can cry, if you need to, but you've gotta stay strong. Stay strong for me..." Her voice seemed to waiver on the line of silent, and Sammy had to strain her ears to hear the girl. She almost felt bad for the Daniel guy when she heard a pitiful sob escape him. Almost. She was still quite livid about being car-and-shit jacked.

"That's touching, but I still think I wanna stab you in the eye for stealing my car," Sammy called out loudly among the quiet sobs and whispers of the girl's name on his lips. The room fell silent instantly, a chill filling the air.

"Please." It was Rebeca who spoke first, her voice breaking in a sob. "Please don't hurt him, he was just trying to help me."

Sammy mulled it over, on the fence now about getting revenge. "What happened to you, Rebeca?" Use names, make them feel more attached. Put them off guard.

"I was taken by these... These people," Rebeca started. "They did terrible things to me, and.. And Daniel was just trying to save me."

"Why are y'all crying and saying your goodbyes, then?" Her voice was soft. She already knew the answer, but she wanted to be certain. The choked sob that came from the man was enough of an answer. "You were bitten." It wasn't a question, but a fact.

"Yeah," Rebeca confirmed.

"When?"

"This morning. I tried to escape, and..." Her voice trailed off into silence. She didn't need to finish what everyone already knew. "I can feel it, though. I'm not going to make it through the night..."

"Don't say that," Daniel hissed quietly. The smacking of lips could be heard as he kissed her forehead. "You'll be okay. I'll save you... I promised I wouldn't let you die..."

"Can I come in?" Sammy asked quietly. "I won't attack as long as you don't."

She was met with several more seconds of long silence. "Yeah," came the croak of Daniel's sorrowful voice.

Sammy stepped cautiously into the room, but Daniel didn't move from his spot, kneeling on the ground beside his friend. It wasn't a very effective position if he was planning to attack her.

Rebeca lay on a twin size bed that looked fairly worn. She had straw blonde hair, in a braid that reached to her mid back. It was messy and unkept, looking as though it had been pulled at and ripped out several times. Sammy ran her fingers along the back of her own hair that now reached passed her shoulders. It reminded her of the pesky strands of hair that needed to be either cut off or pulled back. That could get her killed one day; a mass of hair flying into her line of sight and not seeing a zombie soon enough. What a stupid way that would be to go.

"Daniel," Sammy started quietly, inching her way closer to the pair. "She's not going to make it. You know that." The painful sobs that ripped from the boy pulled at her heart. Maybe she wouldn't kill him. Maybe just punch the living daylights out of him. "She's going to a better place, though." She wasn't sure what she was saying, but the words came out so easily. She had never been a religious person, but anything had to be better than this world. Right? For good people, at least. "She won't have to fight anymore. No one can hurt her anymore..."

"That's right, baby," Rebeca said quietly, her chest heaving as she fought to keep breathing long enough to say her peace with the man she loved. "And I'll be up there, in heaven. Waiting for you, whenever it's your time..."

Daniel looked down at the woman's face, tears staining his cheeks. He nodded somberly, pressing his lips against hers one last time before the woman's body went limp. He sniffed quietly as he tore himself away and stood up, his eyes downcast.

Sammy was only a couple feet away from him now. She watched the man cautiously, waiting for some sort of reaction. He just wiped his face, not uttering a single word or making any attempt to leave.

"She'll turn, you know," Sammy said quietly. Daniel nodded, but still said nothing. "Do you want me to take care of it?"

Daniel stared at her, his eyes flashing dangerously. "No." He faltered, looking back down at the woman before him. He knew that she wouldn't want her body - whether she was in there or not - to go on living as one of those things. "No." The word was quieter this time. Sadder. "I'll do it."

Sammy stepped away, slowly, and headed to the door. Daniel put his gun against the girl's head, just as her eyes were opening again. A growl was heard from the body, but it was cut off by the ringing of the gunshot. He put his gun back into his pants, his hands shaking. When he turned around, he was met with the barrel of Sammy's new gun. He lifted his hand to reach for his weapon, but she cocked hers.

Sammy tsked at the boy, aiming for his head. "Now now, hold on. I just want the keys to _my_ car," she said, like she was having a normal conversation not involving loaded weapons or a twice dead girl sitting in the room with them.

"They're in my pocket." His hand slid down toward his pocket, the key-shaped lump inside giving the woman enough proof to nod him on.

"Grab them and toss them to me." He, surprisingly, did as she instructed. She caught the keys with ease before pocketing them and slowly putting the gun away. "I'm sorry about your girl." She nodded to the woman. Daniel didn't reply. "If you want, you can come with me. I'm headed toward the east coast."

That sparked his interest. "Washington?" he asked quietly.

"Possibly," Sammy answered with a slight nod. "Probably really close, at least."

"Alright, we can travel together for a while," Daniel caved in, looking down thoughtfully. "You seem like you know how to take care of yourself, so you won't slow me down..."

Sammy had to resist the urge to pull her sword out and stab the guy in his knee. He was so full of himself. But, she took a deep breath and resisted it. She turned, checking the area outside the room before heading to the exit. She heard Daniel's footsteps a moment later as he followed after her. She scanned the area upon stepping outside, but saw nothing in sight between the front door and her car. In fact, it seemed emptier than she remembered. She stepped outside cautiously, her eyes scanning for what felt off. Daniel walked passed her slowly, his head down as he headed to the vehicle parked a ways out.

Before either knew what was happening, a zombie came stumbling from the side of the house, a moan on its pale lips and its sights locked on Daniel. Sammy moved quickly, unsheathing her sword and stabbing the creature through the skull. As it fell to the ground, another approached from the other side. Daniel pulled out his gun, firing twice before managing to get the creature's head on the third shot. The two glanced at each other before Sammy turned back to the twice dead man laying before her. Upon closer inspection, she saw the bullet wound in his chest, but no bite marks of any kind.

"Isn't this one of the guys that was on the porch?" Sammy asked quietly, her brows furrowing together as her thoughts filled the silence.

"Yeah, this one, too," Daniel confirmed, sounding as concerned as Sammy felt. "Neither of them were bitten. I shot them both."

"Yeah," Sammy agreed with the statement. She didn't say anything as she made her way back to the car, her thoughts in turmoil. Daniel followed behind her.

"They weren't infect, so how did they turn?" he questioned, voicing the girl's own thoughts.

"Maybe we don't need to be bitten to be infected," Sammy answered, slowing until the man was walking beside her and she could see his face. His expression was hard to read, but it was somewhere between fear and confusion.

"Maybe we're already infected..." His voice was quiet as they walked down the dirt road. Sammy didn't answer as she turned her eyes to look over their surroundings.

"You have to agree to something for me," Sammy started after several lingering moments of silence, glancing at the man walking next to her. Daniel made a hum of acknowledgement, and Sammy took it as an agreement. "I get to deck you one, real good. Right in the face." She held up her fist and smiled at the man.

"What?" Daniel asked, his voice raising an octave as he stared up at the girl beside him with wide eyes. "Why on Earth would I agree to that?"

"Because," Sammy continued, venom in her voice that clashed against the pleasant smile on her face, "you stole my car and my supplies and left me for dead with a ridiculous number of zombies to deal with. So, yeah, I think I deserve at least one good punch for sparing your stupid ass. And, I'm not going to tell you when I'm doing it; I promise I won't punch you while you're in the middle of fighting off a zombie or anything, but if you say something to piss me off, you better be ready." She tapped her fist into the palm of her opposite hand, her smile looking more like a scowl now.

Daniel laughed nervously at the girl, but he reluctantly agreed. "Yeah, alright, I guess I'll give that to you..."

Sammy smiled at the accomplishment. She just got a man to agree that she could punch him at any given moment without repercussion. She was getting quite the silver tongue. She slid into the driver's seat of her car, her smile only growing as she rubbed the steering wheel. "Oh, how I missed you," she said quietly to the vehicle as Daniel slid into the passenger's seat.

"What?" Daniel questioned as he shut the door. Sammy, rather than repeating her sentiments towards the vehicle, pulled the map from the back seat and threw it on the man's lap before pulling her seat belt on.

"You're the designated map reader," Sammy stated, starting up the car and pulling out of the dirt road and back onto the main road. Daniel looked down at the map. There were pencil marks across half the paper, and Lewisburg, WV was circled. "And put your seat belt on. I won't have you dying on me for something stupid like not wearing a seat belt. Not after all the shit you put me through today." Daniel couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped him, but complied as he pulled the strap over his shoulder and buckled himself in. "It's not a laughing matter. The statistics of death for the passenger's seat are scary high. I don't remember how high, and unfortunately I can't google it. But I remember, it's bad. So wear your fucking seat belt."

"Alright, _mom,_ " Daniel replied, but he couldn't keep the small smile off his face. "Geez, you sure do talk a lot."

"Haven't really talked to anyone in a while," Sammy countered quietly, keeping her eyes on the road as she drove and missing the look the boy in the passenger's seat gave her. "I guess I have a lot I want to talk about."

"So, your friend lives in West Virginia?" Daniel asked, changing the subject.

"Yep, Lewisburg," Sammy stated, quickly pointing out the spot she had circled before her eyes were glued back to the road. "Right there."

"That's practically a suburb of Washington," Daniel said, actually sounding excited. "We could make the trip there in a day, less if we still have a car."

"I don't really do big cities," Sammy cut in, curious why the man was suddenly so excited about it. He seemed to deflate a bit, and Sammy bit her lip as she mulled it over. "But, I've always wanted to see Washington. We'll see what happens." The answer was enough to put a smile back on Daniel's face.

* * *

 _Don't let people take advantage of you for doing the right thing. It's hard to hold onto that, your morals, when no good deed goes unpunished. But you can't let that stop you from always trying to do the right thing. Read situations. Make decisions based on facts that you've picked up and listen to your instinct. Always be ready to act quickly. But don't be afraid to reach out to someone. You'll be surprised at the bonds you make._


	9. Chapter 9

_Chapter nine: Old Frenemies_

 _A wise motto to live by; hope for the best, prepare for the worst. I don't know who said it originally, so I'm sorry for my lack of an official quote and probably helping in destroying what's left of culture. Hey, at least plagiarism hasn't died yet._

 _When looking for friends that you knew before the outbreak, don't get your hopes too high. Hell, even if it's someone you met after the outbreak and were separated from. If they're a survivor, they might still be alive, but the chances of ever seeing them again are slim to none. Sometimes, you have to let go of the world before this. This is the now. The hand that we're dealt. As much as it sucks sometimes, we go on._

* * *

Sammy yawned and stretched uncomfortably in the passenger seat as she shut her journal. Daniel was behind the wheel of the car now, having taken over driving after they made it through the last town. They had managed to siphon enough gas to keep them going through Tennessee and mostly through Kentucky. She looked out at the landscape, in awe at the greenery of the eastern U.S. Where she came from, everything was brown and yellow. Dead. A real desert. This felt like another planet entirely to her.

"What do you write in that journal of yours?" Daniel asked curiously. His soft brown eyes swept over the item in her hands before returning to the road.

"Just stuff," Sammy replied, leaving it at that and slipping the notebook back into her pocket.

"Like, your emotions and stuff?" Daniel pressed in her silence. "You're not falling in love with me, are you? I don't wanna wake up one day to you trying to force yourself on me."

"I could never love someone with such a big head," Sammy scoffed in return. "I fear I'd get sucked into its gravitational pull if I ever tried to go in for a kiss."

Daniel let out a chortle of laughter and shoved the girl lightly. "My ego isn't _that_ big," he defended. "I just love myself."

"Is exactly what a narcissistic man with a big head would say," Sammy shot back, sending the man a teasing smile. Her smile faltered quickly when the car's engine started sputtering. Daniel panicked slightly, but he managed to calmly pull the car over on the side of the road before turning it off and pulling the keys from the ignition. Smoke exploded from the engine of the car not a moment later, taking both the passengers by surprise.

Sammy jumped out of the vehicle first and rushed to the front as Daniel popped the hood. She waved away the thick, black smoke as she tried to see where it was coming from. Daniel came out to stand beside her. They shared a glance and realized quickly that neither of them knew a damn thing about cars.

"Well, Bessy had a good run," Sammy sighed, shutting the hood of the car and patting the top of it affectionately. "At least we got this far. The rest won't be too hard on foot, and we might be able to find a new ride."

"What kind of a name is Bessy for a car?" was Daniel's reply as the two grabbed everything they could carry.

Sammy tightened the straps of her bags, vaguely noticing how thin she had gotten since her journey began. "The kind of name you give to a hunk of junk that just keeps trucking on." She patted the hood of the car again as she rounded to the front of it, actually looking sad at the loss. "You will be missed, but never forgotten." She pulled her journal out, scribbling something on a piece of paper and sticking it under one of the windshield wipers before heading toward the town.

"Maybe we can get flowers for it if we ever head back this way," Daniel teased as he skimmed over the note she had left, a laugh ringing in his voice.

"I don't think we'll be heading back any time soon," Sammy stated as she looked up at a nearby sign.

 _Georgetown, Kentucky_ , the sign read. _50 miles_.

Daniel groaned quietly, and Sammy let out a sigh. Neither was looking forward to the trek of _fifty_ miles, but they marched on, none the less.

"Do we have any snacks?" Daniel asked, his voice holding a childlike whine to it.

"None we can really spare," Sammy answered.

"Tell me a story?"

"Maybe later," Sammy agreed, biting her lip in thought. She did enjoy a good story herself. "If I can manage to make one up on the fly."

"It could be something you already know," Daniel pushed, looking for some distraction to the boring hike that lie ahead of them. "Not like copyright matters anymore."

Sammy laughed at that, shaking her head. "Stealing is wrong, Danny-boy," she teased, her eyes drifting upward as she thought over some of the stories and shows she had seen in her past. "Once upon a time," she started slowly, "because ever good story starts with 'once upon a time'."

Daniel just laughed at her, and she continued on as they walked. She recited the story of a ballerina girl and a duck and a magical pendant that allowed her to change between the two. She told her companion of the daring feats that the young dancer had to overcome in order to save the lovely prince, and how her curse kept her from confessing her love for him. Daniel laughed at most of the odd story, but couldn't help but think that a tale so strange would be something Sammy enjoyed, regardless of the state of the world around her.

Dusk fell before the pair reached the city that lie ahead. The two had stopped to make camp, collecting wood and setting up a fire before it got too dark. They sat back to back in the darkness, the fire crackling beside them as they each enjoyed their own can of food. They had a random assortment of side dishes left, but neither complained as they ate their makeshift meal.

"We'll need more supplies soon, we're running low again," Sammy commented, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

"Yeah," Daniel agreed, picking slowly at his fire-warmed vegetables from the can he held.

"Is Georgetown big?" she questioned, glancing back at the designated navigator of their mission.

"It looks like it's pretty big," Daniel answered, glancing back at her as he recalled the size on the map. "I know you like to avoid big cities, but we're low on options here."

Sammy sighed and stared passed the light of the fire and into the foreboding darkness. She mulled over their options. "Have you ever gone hunting before?" She asked, bringing her can to her lips.

Daniel let out a quite breath of laughter. "Once, when I was ten," he stated. "I don't think I'd be much help there."

"Yeah, me neither," Sammy scoffed in return, allowing the bitter smile to pull at her lips. "Guess it's to Georgetown then."

"Yep."

The silence consumed the two again. After they finished eating, they took turns sleeping, and soon dawn was upon them. They packed up their things and headed along the highway again. Cars seemed to show up more frequently the closer they got to town. Daniel tried to open every one that the pair passed.

"No point," Sammy told him as he tried to pry the door open on a nearby truck with wheels nearly as big as him. "Even if we get a car running, I'm sure the highway will just be blocked up for miles outside of the city. No way to drive through it in something that big."

"How about a bike?" Daniel asked, his eyes shining as he took in the Harley specimen that he spotted not too far ahead of them.

Sammy eyed the vehicle skeptically. "It'd be really loud," she stated, wanting to shoot the idea down. At the same time, she really liked the idea of jumping on the bike and booking it far, far away from there.

"But it would be fast. We wouldn't have to worry about the biters getting us."

"If we crash, we're dead." Sammy finally wondered over to the bike, running a hand over the smooth surface and observing the dust that collected on her fingertips. It had obviously been abandoned long ago, and she vaguely wondered if it would even start. "Even if we survive the crash, we'll be hurt and won't be able to outrun them forever."

"Hey, it's not like I haven't driven a bike before," Daniel rebutted, his unwavering gaze resting on Sammy.

"Let me guess," Sammy started, sending the man a teasing grin. "Once when you were ten, right?"

Daniel flushed slightly. "Oh, haha. Funny." He looked at the ignition, his smile returning as his eyes wandered back up to Sammy. "The key," he stated.

Sammy leaned in closer, seeing that the key was indeed in the ignition. She sighed and stood up straight, looking at the road ahead of them. She debated with herself over the safety issues that might arise with either choice. Crossing her arms, she looks back down at the bike with reluctant acceptance. "I'm driving," she stated. Daniel beamed for a moment at the girl's acceptance of the vehicle before giving her an offended look.

"Why do you get to drive?" he asked in a huff as Sammy easily sat in the seat. Her hands hovered over the handles as she looked down at the vehicle. Her fingertips traced the grooves in the hard rubber, and she felt an odd rush at the idea of driving the motorcycle.

"Because, I don't trust you," was the girl's simple reply as she kicked up the stand and started the engine. It took a few tries, but eventually the bike roared to life.

Daniel grinned from ear to ear as he hopped on behind her, all hurt feelings forgotten when he heard the sound of the engine. "Oh boy, listen to that baby purr," he said, his voice bordering on sensual as his breath hit the back of Sammy's ear.

Sammy felt a chill run down her spine. "Don't say gay shit like that while you're sitting right behind me!" the girl hissed, revving the engine one more time before taking off. Daniel clung to the girl's back as they passed a zombie, the creature growling and throwing itself at them. But Sammy had no problem avoiding it, and it fell to the ground in its failure.

As they got closer to the city, fear clenched at Sammy's gut and she slowed to a stop, killing the engine. Ahead of them, as far as she could see, were cars packed tightly together. Several zombies were trapped among the abandoned vehicles, some wondering around in their confined space while others were literally crushed between two useless hunks of metal. Sammy's eyes turned to Daniel, who looked pale as he watched on.

"We won't make it through that," Sammy stated. "Not on this bike. Not on that highway." She could feel the man's fists clench, still holding onto her like he was when they were moving. He wanted to deny it and say to push forward, but he knew she was right.

Daniel sighed in defeat, sounding angry and tired. "What do we do then?" he asked, his voice strained. He rubbed a hand along his face as he sat back, staring at the view before him as he waited for an answer.

"We could go around and find an easier way into the city," Sammy suggested. "I think I saw a dirt road that split off a mile or so back. We could try that."

"I guess that's what we're doing," Daniel agreed with another sigh.

Sammy pressed her lips together as she started the bike again and turned around. She weaved through the cars quickly and carefully until she reached the dirt road, turning off at it and speeding along the empty road. While Sammy was initially against the bike, she had to admit that riding it gave her a thrill. She knew the vehicle wasn't built for the off-road terrain, though, and had to restrain herself from gunning it along the dirt path.

The two were surprised when they saw a small camp set up along the road. There were two RVs, a few tents littered around the area, and three other vehicles parked near the dirt road, cutting most of the camp off from their view as they approached. Sammy slowed as they drew closer, hoping that these people would be able to help them out.

"You're stopping?" Daniel asked, worry gripping at his voice. "You shouldn't just stop for people!"

"I stopped for you," Sammy grumbled in reply as she killed the engine.

"Yeah, and look where that got you," Daniel scoffed.

"A huge pain in the ass, I know," Sammy groaned dramatically. "You don't have to keep reminding me." She laughed off her companion's concern, kicking the stand down to hold the bike before getting off. She had parked a decent ways away from the settlement, in case they were hostile, and her hand hovered over her gun as she walked closer.

"Who are you?" a woman called from the top of the RV, her rifle pointed at them as she stared down the barrel. "What are you doing here?"

"Name's Sammy," the girl replied with an easy smile, her hands raised in surrender. Not that she hadn't become quick at the draw. She might not be able to avoid a bullet, but she would sure as hell take the stranger down with her if the rifle's trigger was pulled. "We were trying to get into town, maybe scavenge up some supplies before we headed out. Would you be able to point us in the right direction? The main road has some really bad traffic, you see. It's backed up pretty far, and I don't think we'll be able to get through that way."

The woman stared silently down at them for several seconds. Daniel stepped a little closer to Sammy, trying to make himself look smaller and hide himself from the threat of the rifle. Eventually, the girl lowered her gun and turned back toward the camp.

"Boss, we've got company," the girl called before moving to climb down from the roof of the vehicle, on the opposite end where the traveling pair stood. At her announcement, three men came into view around the RV. And older man, likely in his sixties with graying hair and tired eyes, and two younger men. One was definitely intimidating, with sharp eyes and toned arms, his broad body towered over the other two men; it reminded Sammy of James, and a pang ran through her chest at the thought of the man. She missed that stupid brute, even if he had gotten people killed.

The other man, though, was thin and a little on the short side, in comparison to the other men present. He had long, dirty blond locks that fell nearly to his shoulders, and piercing blue eyes. As soon as the boy met her eye, his own lit up in recognition.

"Sammy?" he asked in disbelief, a grin slowly pulling at his lips as the girl stared on in shock. "Well, I'll be damned. You actually found me."

* * *

 _Of course, never give up. Maybe, by some stroke of blind luck, you'll find that lost friend on the other side of the country._

 _Best of luck to all you survivors out there looking for your friends._

* * *

 ** **Hello, everyone! I've got a Neurologist appointment a couple towns over in a couple of days (fingers crossed that I don't have epilepsy! Wish me luck :"D). I already have the next few chapters written out, but I want to edit them quite a bit before I post them. I might not get around to it as soon as I want to... I'll try to get to them ASAP, but the next chapter or two might be delayed a bit. Just a head's up to anyone following this story .o.  
****

 ** **Also, the story that Sammy tells, for anyone who's interested, is about an anime called _Princess Tutu_. I do not own it, obviously, but I do love the show. Once you get passed the goofiness and oddities in it, it's actually got an amazing plot and interesting characters, and I recommend it to anyone who is interested. :)****


	10. Chapter 10

**Well, I had planned on rewriting these next few chapters, but life got in the way. Sooo much drama, asgdad! I decided to just post them as is and worry about revamping the entire story later... so this'll be a draft story (yay)!**

 **If anyone wants to be my editor, PM me~**

 **Also, I'm trying to save up money, so if you wanna commission me for art, PM me or look up TwitchingHades93 on deviantart and note me on there! (I also have a character sheet for Sammy, if you want to check that out on my DA)**

 **Now, onward with the story!**

* * *

 _Chapter Ten: Losing Yourself_

 _I'm sure that by now, most of you out there have lost a lot of who you were before all of this shit went down. There is such a thing as being out in the wilderness for too long. You do loose pieces of yourself along the way, among all of the death and chaos. But those parts of you will return when you need them again. If civilization is rebuilt, it'll come back. And, if you find yourself in a nice settlement, void of the stress and chaos of the outside world, you might think you're losing your edge to survive. But, if you're anything like me, you're a survivor at heart. No matter what situation you're thrown into, you can find a way out._

* * *

Sammy's chest tightened as she stared at the scrawny boy in front of her and Daniel. She felt the tears well at her eyes, but she laughed and wiped them away.

"Of course I found you, ya idiot," Sammy stated, the smile stretching across her face. Her teeth were surprisingly white for someone who hadn't brushed them in ages. "I told you I would if the world ever ended. You think I'm some sort of fucking lair?"

"Not a lair, but someone's developed a bit of a sailor's mouth," the man teased, grinning cheekily at her. "Guys, this is Sammy; she and I were room mates back in college." His eyes scanned over his companions with a look of unease that Sammy caught in an instant. "She's cool. A real trooper to have traveled from the other side of the country." His eyes met with Sammy's again, the unease gone at the sight of a friendly face.

"Where you from?" the old man asked, pushing at the brim of the baseball cap that sat on his head.

"Southern Texas," Sammy answered with a cheerful smile at the old man. As an after thought, she added a 'sir', wanting to stay on these people's good side. Especially if her best friend didn't trust them. She didn't want to start unnecessary drama. She turned to Daniel with a smile as the men talked among themselves.

"So, that's your friend?" Daniel breathed out, awe in his voice.

"Yep, that's my Petey over there!" Sammy said, loud enough for the boy to hear the nickname.

"I told you to stop with that fucking nickname," Peter called out, mirth in his voice.

"Would you prefer _Dirty Birdy?_ " Sammy teased, turning back to the boy with a mischievous grin.

"Woman, I am warning you," Peter said lowly, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I could start calling you _Tweety Petey_ again," Sammy threatened, narrowing her eyes at him in return.

They stared each other down before they both broke. Fits of laughter escaped from both of them, and Sammy closed the space between them to pull her friend into a tight hug.

"I missed you, Peter," Sammy muttered.

"Missed you, too, Sammy." He pat her back several times, trying to put up with the long hug for the sake of his friend. "Sammy," he said after several seconds had passed with the girl clinging to him.

"One more second," Sammy hissed in reply. "I traveled across the fucking country to find your dumb ass, so let me hug you for as long as I damn well please." She hugged him a little tighter, lifting him off the ground a bit before setting him back down with a sigh and letting go. "You've gotten thinner," she mused aloud.

Peter smiled at her in amusement. "You've gotten stronger," he added. "And thinner. Geez, you're really skinny." He took a moment to sweep his eyes over her body, a worried look on his face. "How much have you been eating?"

"Well, you now," Sammy said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she offered the boy a lazy shrug. "I can usually manage to scarf down a good 16oz. of canned food between running, fighting and scavenging. So, enough."

"Fair enough," Peter replied with a sigh, though some worry lingered in his expression. "So, they can stay, right?" Peter turned his attention to the other two men, who seemed to have more power in the camp than he did. Or, at least, that's what he let them believe. If Sammy knew her friend, and she did, he was pulling the strings from the shadows, and no one else had any idea. "I promise they can pull their own weight around here. Hell, they'll probably pull some extra weight and pick up what the slackers around here fail to do."

"Do we really have to do _extra_ work," Daniel complained quietly, whispering the words into Sammy's ear as he stuck close to the girl.

Sammy jabbed him in the ribs before smiling at the other two men. "We're happy to help in any way we can," she stated with a nod. They looked at each other, sharing a nod as they decided on their verdict.

"Alright, you folks can stay," the elderly man agreed. "But no slackin' off. You start becomin' more of a hassle than you're worth, and I'll eat ya!" He let out a hoot of laughter. The tall man and Peter joined in with quiet laughs. Sammy let out a nervous laugh as she stared between the strangers and her friend.

"Is he joking?" Sammy asked, her voice straining slightly as it hit a higher octave. The two strangers just laughed louder as they walked away.

"They're your responsibility, Pete, so show 'em the ropes," the man instructed as he left.

"Seriously, I can't tell if he's joking," Sammy said, her smile faltering as her friend approached her.

"He's not," Peter said slowly, wrapping his arm around Sammy's shoulder and leading her into the camp. "So, preferably just stay away from him. And Gabriel, that big guy that was with him; he may be hot, but do _not_ fuck with him. I've seen him smash a biter into smithereens in less than five seconds. He's scary strong."

Sammy nodded as she stored the information away. She knew the cunning boy had a reason for telling her all of this information. Regardless, she liked to know who she was living with for the next chunk of her life.

"Jessica is a sweet girl, I'm sure you'd like her," Peter continued on as he led her through camp, Daniel trailing behind them. "She won't make it for very much longer, though."

"What?" Daniel exclaimed, butting into the conversation and looking at Peter like the boy just told them he was Satan himself. "That's awful, how can you say something like that!?"

Peter looked at him questioningly, his icy blue eyes sending chills up the other man's spine. "He wasn't your first choice, was he?" he asked, sparing Sammy a glance before continuing to stare at Daniel in boredom.

"My _first_ choice was bitten in the middle of the night by an idiot who infected himself; she bled out, turned, and I stabbed her through the head," Sammy confirmed, sharing the grim story with such ease that Daniel was certain that this woman wasn't the same one he had been traveling with for months. "But, Daniel isn't too bad. He can be funny, and he's made a good traveling companion so far." She smiled as though she was complimenting him, and Daniel puffed out his chest as though he was receiving it like a compliment.

"Yeah, I'm a good traveling companion," Daniel repeated, a snippy tone in his voice. "Unlike _some_ people." He looked pointedly at Peter, faltering slightly after a few seconds of silence.

"Oh," Sammy said, drawing the word out as she turned her head to Peter to see his reaction. Her friend just smiled sweetly at the boy.

"Thank you for keeping my dear, beloved, sister company on her way up here," Peter said, the venom in his voice almost unnoticeable. Almost. Daniel swallowed, standing his ground.

"You're welcome," Daniel said stiffly in return.

"Oh," Sammy repeated, again drawing out the word unnecessarily.

"Shut up, Sammy," Peter laughed, smacking the girl lightly in the ribs.

Sammy giggled in response before sending a reassuring smile to Daniel. "Seriously, Danny-boy, calm down," she instructed her companion. "We need to relax and enjoy life in these little moments that allow us to do so."

Peter nodded in agreement. "Right, you should," he stated. "But first, you need to work so you're not eaten." Daniel paled and kept his mouth shut as the other man led them on again, giving them both jobs to occupy themselves with.

* * *

Several hours passed. The sun was long gone beneath the horizon, and the moon was high in the sky to take its place. Most of the residence of the camp were located around a large fire as they ate their dinner. Daniel had sat on the outskirts of the group, exhausted from the day of hard labor. Sammy, on the other hand, had taken up residence on top of one of the RVs. She stared up at the night sky in awe, trying to find the few constellations that she knew about.

"There you are," she heard Peter's voice from below. She looked down the side of the RV, seeing the boy smiling up at her with two bowls in his hands. "Help me out." He held out the bowls to her, and she reached down, setting them carefully on the roof of the RV. Then, Peter climbed his way up to sit beside her, both of them eating their dinner in silence.

"So, what's the plan?" Sammy asked quietly, her eyes fixed back on the stars above them.

Peter smirked slightly. "How do you know I have a plan?" he asked, though his tone told her that he knew better than to doubt her ability to read him. They had known each other for so long, even after years of being apart they still felt like two sides of the same coin. Peter was the head of the coin, cunning and manipulative, while Sammy made up the tail with her violent temper and disregard for what others thought. They completed each other, in a strange, psychopathic sort of way. A way that would ensure that they both would survive as long as they stuck together.

Sammy scoffed at his question. "He fuckin' eats people, Petey," was her reply. "You wouldn't have stuck around someone like that if there wasn't a plan."

Peter just laughed at the girl, choosing to take a sip from his bowl of soup instead of answering her question. He shook his head when her questioning gaze fell on him. "Not here," his voice was quiet as his eyes scanned the area, pointing out where the night's lookout stood. Sammy got the hint, knowing it wasn't safe to talk while they could be overheard.

"So," Sammy started slowly, deciding to change the subject. "What have you been up to since the world fell to shit?"

"I've kind of been jumping from one group to another, trying to get south to meet up with you," Peter answered truthfully, eliciting a long 'aw' from the girl.

"You were looking for me, and we found each other!" Sammy cooed, leaning on the man's shoulder. "It's like some mushy, zombie-apocalypse love story!"

"Don't be gay," Peter laughed, pushing the girl off of him when she nuzzled into his side in response.

"Oh, I'm the gay one?" Sammy teased as she sat back up straight, a grin on her face. "Speaking of gay, have you got any sexy tail yet?"

Peter scoffed, but his face flushed in embarrassment despite his efforts to hide it. "Not since the world ended. There isn't a wide selection of male bachelors looking for other male bachelors," he stated with a roll of his eyes.

Sammy scoffed quietly. "Not a wide selection of male bachelors, period," the girl rectified. "And, that's not omitting the ones that have gone crazy and are more likely to rape you than actually try to whoo you."

"I don't get it," Petey said, the astonishment ringing clearly in his voice. "The world's gone to shit, there aren't a lot of choices left for a suitable mate. If some guy would just fuckin' hand me some pretty weeds that look like a flower I would be all over that."

"No joke," Sammy laughed bitterly in reply, finishing off her soup and setting the bowl down beside her. She opted to lay back on the RV, enjoying one of the rare moments of peace and safety with her friend. She was sure it wouldn't last very long, but she was grateful for just that small moment. "I don't know if it's an animalistic instinct to try to fuck anything with a hole, though, but they can't seem to see very far with their heads so far up their asses."

The two laughed, glancing fondly at each other. "I missed you, Sammy," Peter mused aloud as his laughter died down.

"Yeah," Sammy replied softly, a rare, gentle smile on her face. She closed her eyes, just enjoying the moment. "I missed you, too, Petey."

* * *

 _Don't let it run you, though. Let yourself take a break from all the fighting and all the distrust. Let yourself be human every once in a while. It's okay to be human, you won't lose the animal in you that's kept you alive this long. It might not always jump right back, but both sides are still you. Try to learn to live with them both regardless of the shit going on around you._


	11. Chapter 11

**Decided to be nice and give another chapter today, since I made everyone wait so long for the last one.**

 **Still taking commissions for art! TwitchingHades93 on deviantart. twitchinghades93 at gmail. Or you can PM me here! I would give you guys links, but FF is so picky about links! You can't even send them through PM.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _CH. 11: Settlements_

 _So, you found a nice little settlement for you and your 'family' to live in and you want to be sure it's safe. Most settlements aren't safe like a community in the world before, and every place comes with some pros and cons. So, here are some things to keep in mind when picking your (temporary) forever home._

 _Safety is a big priority, as you don't want those zombie assholes sneaking up on you when you are trying to get some R &R. What kind of barricades do they have? Strong walls are most ideal, but you're lucky if you find a place protected with wooden sticks and the inhabitants don't try to kill you on sight. If the defense is lacking in your settlement, try to bring it up with the people in power and work out some sort of defense system that doesn't burn their best men out._

 _The difference between a tight knit family and a random group of strangers is the people in it. Good company is a little hard to come by now, though, so pick your battles and push through the unbearable assholes if they're not going to kill, eat, or betray you in any way. Trust me, it's better to play submissive sometimes than try to take on someone twice your size.  
_

* * *

Sammy wiped at the sweat that beaded down her forehead. She pushed a few strands of stray hair out of her face, not caring about them enough to redo her ponytail. She had been walking for several hours with Peter, one of the more physically intimidating men from camp, two scrawnier men, and another woman who looked like she could at least hold her own against the zombies. Peter had told her a little about each member, though his knowledge on them wasn't very wide. Stone was what the bigger man was called, preferring to go by his last name; no one knew his first name at that point. Ben and Jerry were the two other men; they usually stuck together because of their names. It was a joke that they enjoyed every time they introduced themselves to someone. The final member was Abigail; while Sammy didn't know much about her, she knew that Abigail and Peter had become acquainted during the boy's time with the group.

"Are we there yet?" Sammy asked her friend quietly, still not used to walking everywhere. She did have a car for the last few months, and they didn't stop or get out unless necessary. Though she was sweaty and tired, and her feet ached again after they had just healed from her last pilgrimage, she was trying to keep from letting her negative feelings show to the rest of the group.

"Just a little farther," Peter promised, buildings coming into view as they ascended the hill in front of them. Sammy stopped at the top of the hill, looking out at the city in awe for a moment. She hadn't been to a big city in a very long time; she had forgotten how intimidating a wide expanse of land filled with large buildings could be. When Peter stopped to nod at her to keep up, Sammy obeyed and picked up her pace.

The group she was put with went in like pros. They used smoke bombs and flash grenades to draw the walkers away. They only had to kill about five zombies in total before they picked a house to raid. They split into pairs upon entering the house. Peter stuck by Sammy's side as the two headed to the opposite side of the house of the others.

"I'm thinking we take over," Peter said quietly once they cleared the room they were in. "Take out the leaders. Make this settlement our own. It wouldn't be hard, I already have everyone ready for a mutiny."

Sammy laughed quietly at the man, but she shook her head lightly. "I don't want to take over," she told her friend. "I think we should head to the coast, us and anyone who wants to join us. And, I told Daniel that I'd help him get to Washington."

"Okay," Peter said, chewing his lip in thought as he mulled the idea over. "They won't let us leave, we'll have to take some supplies and sneak out."

Sammy nodded in understanding, expecting no less. Most places wanted to keep their population as high as possible. Easiest way to do that, kill anyone that tried to leave. Not many people are willing to take the risk of actually trying to leave.

"The fuck are you two whispering about in here?" One of the men, Jerry, stepped through the doorway of the room they were occupying. Peter easily fell into a smile, his voice smooth and his tongue quick.

"We were just trying to decide what sounded best for dinner," Peter lied easily. He smiled at Sammy as the girl easily joined in the lie.

"I was telling Peter how much I wanted a can of Raviolis," she stated with a bashful laugh on her lips. "I loved those things, it would be awesome to have some again."

The man laughed quietly, all signs of hostility gone. "I used to get those cans of Spaghetti - O's for my son, back before all this," he said, sounding nostalgic as he remembered better times.

"The ones with the beef franks are the best," Sammy chipped in, her mouth watering at the thought of the foods she once had at her convenience. Why did she ever give two shits what people thought of a grown woman eating a can of spaghetti - O's? If she could go back and change something in her life, it would be to eat more spaghetti - O's when she had the chance. More Lunchables. Those mozzarella cheese sticks that pull apart into strings of cheese. Food that most people had deemed for children.

A banging on the wall of the other room grabbed there attention, and the three quickly and cautiously moved toward the noise, weapons at the ready. The rest of the group stood in the kitchen, searching through the cabinets. Sammy sighed and lowered her weapon when she realized there was no immediate danger around.

"A more gentle and discrete way of signalling each other from a distance would be good," Sammy stated quietly as she stepped fully into the room with the two other men. "Whistles, maybe. Shouting out 'Hey, I'm over here,' might also be a little better than pounding loudly on a wall."

The biggest man in the group stared her down, as though she had offended his ancestors. He took a few large strides toward her, standing a little closer to the woman that she was really comfortable with. Still, she didn't move, standing her ground and returning the intense gaze the brute shot down at her. "Do you have a problem with the way I run things?" he asked, his voice gruff and threatening.

"Well, that depends," Sammy started, "Is your way of running things going to get someone killed?"

That only seemed to anger the brute more. His face turned red at her snarky tone and he leaned in, his breath rank as it hit her nose. "If anyone dies, it's on them."

"She's fine with your way of doing things, Stone," Peter tried to smooth the tension between them. They didn't need an incident to break out between them right now.

"Stay out of it, you fuckin' fairy," Stone growled out, poking the smaller man hard enough in the chest to send him stumbling back a bit.

Sammy saw red. She grabbed Peter by the arm and pushed him behind her, glaring dangerously up at the man in front of her. "Don't fuckin' touch him." Peter was a little brother to her. They were family, and they were all they had right now. There was no way on Earth that she was going to let some testosterone filled ape hurt her little brother.

"Don't you fuckin' tell me what to do!" The man grabbed Peter from behind the brunette, but before he could tug the boy more than an inch, Sammy punched the man in the gut. She almost regretted it immediately after, though, as pain soared up her arm as her fist met with rock-hard muscle. The grunt of the larger man as he stumbled backward and doubled over was more than satisfying enough to make up for the pain, though.

Stone reached for the gun holstered on his hip, but Sammy wasn't about to let him get any further. She stepped forward, punching him in the face and sending him to the ground. There was an audible crack as she made contact with the man's hard jawbone, and Sammy wasn't sure that the noise didn't come from her own hand. It hurt like a bitch, but she ignored the pain and grabbed Stone's gun before he recovered enough to stop her. She handed the weapon to Peter, letting her friend have the final say in what happened to the brute.

"We can work this out like civilized adults," Peter started, taking control of the situation and jumping straight into negotiator mode. "Stone, we'll forget you tried to pull a gun on me, forget this little quarrel happened, and I don't tell Boss that you just tried to kill a valuable asset of his team. No one dies, no one gets eaten. Everyone's happy." He had a serene smile on his face that matched the tone of his voice, but neither matched the threat of his words. "Well, except the Boss. I really think he likes his human meat, the crazy old bat."

"You're holdin' the gun now, Petey," the man said, his voice low and on edge. "What're you going to do with it?"

"No, no," Peter laughed, a cynical undertone creeping in at the man's refusal to cooperate with him. "I'm trying to make peace. I'm negotiating with you, and I have witnesses of what happened." He looked back to the other three of the group, which stood behind him. "You guys saw everything that happened, right?"

"Stone attacked Peter," Abigail stated, not a waiver to her voice.

"You were disarmed, but you refused to stay down," Jerry added on, glancing at Peter as thought to make sure the man approved of his words. "He had no choice but to put you down."

"You were a threat to us all," the final man, Ben, agreed with a nod.

"And Boss wouldn't be mad at me," Peter informed Stone as the brute's body began to tremble, just enough to be noticeable. "Because Sammy is ten times the fighter you'll ever be, and I'm the one that recruited her to the group."

The brute turned red again. He started breathing heavily, his chest heaving. He went to get up, pushing off of his knees to try to lunge at the boy, but a shot rang out and he fell against the ground with a heavy thud. The dirty blond did his best to contain the smirk that pulled at his face.

"I tried to give him a chance," Peter said with a shrug, walking around the mess that was Stone's body to continue their raid. He started pulling more cans of food out, and the others got to work packing the things away in their bags. "I never did like him, though. He was always such an asshole."

* * *

 _But, honestly, you've just gotta stand your ground sometimes. Fuck shit up. Take on that behemoth of a man, and take his ass down. Because, sometimes, there are things worth risking your life for._

 _Fight on, Survivor._


	12. Chapter 12

_Chapter twelve: Lost and Found_

 _Sometimes, you'll find some cool shit in your travels. Maybe it's not something that's really of use any more, but it'll fill you with nostalgia from the old world. Even something as simple as candy that you love. Indulge yourself in those moments when they arise.  
_

* * *

Sammy grabbed at the new hat that adorned her head, looking over the grey-tone plaid that covered its exterior. She had found the item on a sweep through of the next house they had raided. It was primarily a winter hat, so it wouldn't be of much use until the summer heat started to die down into Fall. But the design was interesting to her, the inside was soft and comforting, and if she could hold onto it until winter she would be more than a little grateful for the extra warmth. She set the item atop her head, the ears that fell down the side of her face currently pinned up to keep her from overheating in it.

"We have to go," Peter said quickly as he rushed passed the door. "The hoard outside is getting bigger, I think they're probably drawn to the smell of Stone's blood. We need to get going before we're stuck here for the night."

Sammy nodded in acknowledgment and followed the boy out, the other three in the group ready to go as well. Peter opened the front door quietly, just enough to toss a smoke bomb out it and draw the zombies away from them. Then, the group slipped out in single file and headed back to their camp.

"No!" One of the men cried. Sammy stopped and turned to see Jerry laying on his stomach on the ashfalt, a rotting hand around his ankle and the rest of the creature hidden under a car. The hoard heard his yell, and every ghoul in the area targeted in on them. Sammy rushed toward Jerry, grabbing the man's arm and pulling him as she kicked at the zombie's head. It finally let go, and Sammy tried to pull the man to his feet, but he cried in pain as they touched the ground. His foot was twisted at a nasty angle, and Sammy grimaced at the sight as she tried to keep the man moving.

"I know it hurts, Spaghetti-O, but we have to keep moving," she encouraged the man as the hoard gained on them.

Peter shot a zombie that reached out for Sammy, the creature falling to the ground and quickly being stampeded over by the others, lost among the hoard. "Hurry up!" Peter order as he rushed forward to grab the man's other arm. As the two dragged the injured man onward, a rotting hand reached out, grabbing hold of him. Sammy and Peter tried to pull him away, but the creature sank its teeth into Jerry before they could get him free.

"No!" the man screamed in pain, blood gushing from the wound. He held Sammy's hand tightly as more zombies grabbed him, pulling him down to the ground. Sammy went down with them as she tried desperately to get out of the man's grasp. Fear clenched at her chest as more of the hoard closed in on her.

"Let go," she pleaded. "Let go! I can't save you, I'm sorry!"

Two more gunshots rang out in the air before Peter was at her side. He pulled the woman's sword from its sheath and quickly decapitated the dying man's arm. Sammy, finally released, leaped to her feet and the two ran as fast as they could along the road. The other two that were left in the group, looking tired and terrified, followed their lead and quickly made their way into the relative safety that the thicket of trees provided.

When they finally slowed their pace, Sammy was gasping for air and trying to calm her pounding heart. Her hand ached terribly from the day's abuse. It may have just been fractured after punching the brute, but when Jerry had squeezed her hand for dear life she felt the snap in her bone. And it hurt like a bitch.

"Fuck," she breathed out, tears stinging at her eyes. She wouldn't allow herself to cry. She took more deep breaths until the adrenaline slowly faded to a dull roar in the back of her mind.

"You okay?" Peter asked, worry in his voice. He held the woman's sword out to her, having held onto it during their mad dash for survival.

Sammy clinched her fist and hissed in pain. "I think that fucker broke may hand," she muttered, not going into detail with it. He was smart, he could put all the pieces of that puzzle together.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Peter said, sounding genuinely sincere in his apology.

Sammy let out a breathy laugh as she took her weapon with her left hand. "Well, I always did want to be ambidextrous," she stated, laughing bitterly at the predicament in which she was forced to learn the new skill.

"I'll help you out," Peter laughed quietly in reply as they all continued on, their pace on the side of a speed walk. Slow enough to recover from the scare, but quickly enough to outrun the hoard that would head toward them as soon as they finished their current meal. Sammy just sighed in response as she sheathed her sword a bit awkwardly. It wasn't until the weapon slid in to its holster that she realized something felt off. She felt at her pockets with her good hand, her chest tightening in panic as she realized her notebook wasn't there. She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes wide as she scanned the horizon for the little black book, but it was nowhere to be seen. She let out a sharp breath, letting go of the item in her heart.

Maybe someone out there would find it and take some of her advice to heart. Maybe should would help another good person survive, even if only a little bit. The possibility, however small it may be, made it easier to let go of the book.

* * *

 _Don't be afraid to take a little something extra or unnecessary. You never know when something you held dear will be lost forever._


	13. Chapter 13

**Some slight spoilers if you haven't seen to season 5. More along the lines of not knowing what the hell's going on than actual spoilers, though. I've only seen through season 5 so far (I marathoned it on Netflix, so I'm assuming that there's at least one more season out/airing that I haven't seen! ... I'm bad at keeping up with shows and whatnot ^^; ). Most of the events that go on even after Sammy and co. meet the WD group will be straight outta my brain-dome, though, so there won't be a whole lot in the way of spoilers...**

 **I'm also going to be upping the rating to M within the next few chapters, because it'll probably start getting a little darker and... maturer soon.**

 **Just a fair warning. Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Chapter thirteen: A New Fan_

Daryl's motorcycle roared in the quiet that surrounded him as he rode. The man kept an eye out for any settlements that he could spot in the distance as he weaved around stray cars that littered the highway. The only thing that he was met with, though, was the low rumble of the car that Aaron followed him in. As the two got closer to the nearby town; _Green-something_ , Daryl vaguely remembered the signs he had passed;, he slowed to a stop and killed the engine. Aaron stopped behind him, getting out of the car and being met with the distant growls of the walkers that were strewn about

"Alright," Aaron stated as he assessed the situation before them, Dayrl pulling out a smoke as he listened to the other man's plan. No way were they going to try to get through that. "We'll circle around and see if we can find another way into town."

Daryl waited for the man to finish, enjoying lightly puffing on the stick of tabacco at his lips, before he lifted a finger and pointed to something off in the distance. "See that?" he questioned his companion, his voice slightly distorted from the cigarrette taking up part of his lips. "It's a fire. And a big one, from the looks of it." Aaron followed his gaze, seeing the organge dot that was glowing in the distance against the slowly darkening sky of the late afternoon. "Probably a settlement."

"I don't think we can get anything from here," Aaron said, refering to their spying equipment's range. "Think we could circle around into the woods nearby somewhere and scope them out?"

"That'd be our best bet," Daryl agreed. He took one last long drag from his cigarrette as Aaron returned to his car before he tossed the item down. He revved up his bike as he heard Aaron turn his car around, releasing the smoke from his lungs as he drove away.

After they drove along the main road for a while, Daryl revved his engine, signallying he was stopping to the man ahead of him. He pulled over on the side of the road, Aaron doing so as well a little ways ahead of him.

"What's up?" he asked the man curiously, stepping out of his vehicle and leaning on his door to watch Daryl as the man kicked up the stand to his bike. He stood, walking leasurely over to a broken down car. He was surprised when he looked down, realizing what he'd spotted was a piece of paper stuck in the windsheild. He grabbed the paper, staring at it curiously. The scribbles almost looked foreign to the man, it felt like it had been a long time since he had read something on a piece of paper. It took him a bit longer than he cared to admit to remember how.

 _Here in lies Bessy, beloved family transportation vessel. Her heart finally ran out of summers, but she will forever be in our hearts._

 _Feel free to take what you need, Survivor._

 _S.G._

His eyes lingered on the heart doodled at the end of the note for a moment. The man had seen a lot of strange things in his life, but a memorial note to a vehicle like this was the first. A small smile pulled at his lips, amused by the note, but the look vanished quickly as he peeked into the car. There were a few items left in it, but nothing of any significance. He pulled at the door handle cautiously, the door opening easily. Aaron soon made his way over as Daryl popped the trunk.

"There's some canned food back here," Aaron informed, pulling out can of beans that had exploded in the heat of the summer. He made a face and tossed the item away from the road before going to pick up some of the cans that were still in tact. Daryl helped out before he noticed something off. He handed over what he had in his hands to the other man, lifting the false bottom of the trunk.

"Wow," Aaron said as he looked on, eyes the guitar case that was now visible. "How'd you spot that?"

"My dad had a false bottom in his Jeep," Daryl informed, not elaborating as he looked around for anything useful around it. When he spotted nothing, he dropped it, letting the false bottom fall back into place

"Hey, we should grab that guitar," Aaron griped, going to put the handful of cans he held in the car.

"Why?" Daryl questioned, already heading back to his bike.

"Because, someone might like to have a guitar," Aaron huffed, ignoring the look of disbelief that Daryl gave him as he went back for the instrument. He put it in the trunk of his car, squeezing it in with their supplies, and slammed the trunk with a smile. Daryl just rolled his eyes as the smile was directed at him, but Aaron didn't seem offended as he got back into the car. Aaron led the way once more, Daryl trailing behind him.

* * *

By the time they circled around the settlement, the sun was just barely peaking over the horizon. They found an area of the woods that broke off closer to the town, both deciding to stop there for the night. Daryl walked around, surveying the area. He walked closer to the thicket of trees, something catching his eye. With his crossbow at the ready, he approached. It only took a second before a zombie popped out from the darkness of the trees, and only a second more for Daryl to shoot a bolt through its head. He kept his pace slow and steady, approaching the creature and pulling his arrow back from it.

That's when he saw it. The little, black rectangular object that was peaking out from behind the zombie's head and contrasting against the bright, green grass. He pushed the lifeless ghoul's head out of the way, picking up the small item. The gooey blood from the zombie's head had gotten on the cover and soaked a few pages on the edges, and the latch on the front looked crooked. He tried to open the little book, but found that the latch was stuck shut. So, instead, he wiped the blood off on his pant leg and slipped the item into his pocket to see if he could figure out how to open it later. The man scanned the area once more, not heading back to the car until he was satisfied with their level of safety.

"Find anything useful?" Aaron asked as he returned as well, cleaning the fresh zombie blood off of his machete.

"Nah," Daryl answered, deciding to keep the notebook to himself for now. It was probably just someone's keepsake, a diary or journal. Something from before all of this started. It wasn't anything with real value, but the man found a more sentimental value in the thought that someone could live on in something they left behind. That, and it would be more entertaining than sitting in silence, surely.

Aaron nodded as he got into the driver's seat of the car. Daryl claimed the backseat for himself, certain that the two would likely end up sleeping in the car before long. As per usual when the went out on their recruitment.

"I think I can pick up that camp from here," Aaron mused, more to himself as he set up the equipment. Daryl didn't answer, occupied by the small, black notebook in his hands. He pulled his knife out and started digging at the latch. It didn't take much to pop open, the thin metal breaking off in his efforts.

"What was that?" Aaron questioned, his eyes flickering to where the latch had fallen.

"Nothin'," Daryl assured the man as he retrieved the item off of the floor, showing it as though to prove it was nothing.

"What is _that_?" Aaron questioned again, eyeing the book he held in his other hand.

"Just a journal or something," Daryl answered vaguely, getting comfortable in the back seat before opening up the book and skimming through it. " _Survival Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse,"_ he read the title to his companion, a smirk in his voice. "By _Sammy G._." He chuckled slightly as he continued reading through. He licked his finger lightly before turning to the next page. "Smart guy, whoever wrote this," the man muttered his approval of the content, followed shortly after by a quiet snort of laughter.

Aaron looked up at the country man curiously, but neither said a word. Aaron continued to try to listen in on the nearby camp. Daryl continued to read the book. Anyone who thought Daryl Dixon wasn't a lover of books could be proven wrong with the way he laughed and hooted at random intervals, or hummed in agreement at something in the journal he read. He continued his reading until the sun had set too low for him to see anything, storing the item away to continue later and going to sleep.

* * *

 **Enter everyone's favorite, uber sexy country man~ And what's this, he stumbled upon Sammy's writings? And he actually likes to read!? What will happen next, pig's flying?**

 **Ahaha. All joking aside, I have no idea whether Daryl would like reading; but I'd like to think that Sammy's writing is sensible and snarky enough for the man's taste. (Even if not, like Daryl said, it's better than sitting in boredom while Aaron eavesdrops on strangers, haha!)**


	14. Chapter 14

**I've been meaning to say this: thank you for all for the beautiful comments/faves/follows! You are all wonderful~! ;•;**

 *** _Warning_ * there are some.. implications of sexual assault / _because what is a zombie apocalypse without it?_ / So, fair warning to anyone who can't/wont read that.**

 **And one last announcement: the story might be going on hiatus for a little while. I have up to about... chapter 31? Written out, but I need to rearrange and edit a few things before I can post them. _Before_ that, though, I need to get a job! Because I'm broke... because I fail in this society... (man, I really wish for a zombie apocalypse...). So! It might take a little while for me to get another chapter out, so we shall see! **

**If you'd like to contribute to the cause, find me on (Pat reon) (Remove space. Getting real tired of your lack of URLs, FF...) or commission me on DeviantArt. TwitchingHades and TwitchingHades93, respectively**

 **Other than that, please enjoy the story!**

* * *

 _Chapter fourteen: Upgrade_

 _Survival Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse 2.0_

 _By Sammy G._

 _Hello, fellow survivors!_

 _You'll never believe what happened! I finally lost my old journal, which I so fondly dubbed my "Survival Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse'. It will be missed, but alas, it was time to start anew. This will be the new and improved survival guide. I'm older and stronger now, and I shall impart my ever increasing wisdom into these journals until this shit kills me. For those of you that are new to my work, buckle up, the ride is bumpy._

* * *

Sammy looked down at the writing scrawled in the new notebook. It was barely legible, having been written with her left hand while her right was out of commission. The new journal was bigger than her last, having to be stored away in her bag instead of her pocket. Peter had found it for her on his last supply run when the girl had shared her grief over having lost her last journal. The item was bent and missing several pages; it even had some math homework scattered throughout, but Sammy just decided to write around the used pages, not wanting to waste the paper or dispose of the notes from the world before. She didn't mind the extra content in it. The girl was just happy to be able to write again. She had gone a little stir crazy without the outlet for her thoughts, but she had also been fairly occupied with more important matters to distract herself.

She and Peter had been making plans to leave the settlement since their discussion. They had decided to wait until Sammy's hand had sufficiently healed, the girl not wanting to weigh the group down in their travels. She had wrapped it up upon returning from her first run, deciding that it was nothing more than a fracture, if even that. The skin had been swollen and bruised around the knuckle, the discoloration a blueish green. She looked at the wrapped hand, wiggling her fingers slightly. It still hurt, but the pain was more bearable now and the swelling had gone down considerably. She could still use it, but had decided it would be best to lay of the abused appendage for a while to speed up the healing. It wouldn't be much longer before they left now.

As she mused on her thoughts, one of the more elderly men in the group -Morgan, Manson. Something starting with 'M'. The girl didn't care enough to bother with remembering his name - sat down beside her. Sammy hadn't interacted with many people in the group, not caring to make attachments when she didn't plan to stay for long. Most of them gave the girl a bad vibe, anyway, and she had made a habit of listening to her instincts on the matter. The man that sat beside her now couldn't be a day younger than sixty, and the way his dark, brown eyes scanned over her gave her an uneasy feeling.

"Good afternoon, Samantha," the man greeted, smiling politely at her.

"It's Sammy," the girl replied, but didn't return the greeting. She hated hearing her full given name, especially from strangers; it was an odd pet peeve that she had developed after the apocalypse started. Perhaps it was just sentimental, the name purely for use by her family. All of which were dead; other than her non-biological brother, Peter.

"You know, Samantha," the man continued as though he hadn't heard her, "I heard an interesting rumor going around camp."

The uneasy feeling increased tenfold at the man's tone of voice. It wasn't so much what he said as the way he said it, a knowing look in his eyes. "I'm not big on gossip," the girl said quietly, packing away her journal. She didn't want to be near the man, especially when no one else was within eye-shot.

"Well, I think you'll enjoy this tid bit of information."

A chill ran up the girl's spine at the breath that hit her neck, her arm flying back instinctively. Before she could land a blow, the man grabbed her arm. Not a second later, both her arms were pinned to her sides, and Sammy lashed out. She struggled against the vice, pulling away from the man, kicking out, anything she could to get away, but the air was knocked out of her as she was pinned face-down in the dirt. The old man was surprisingly strong.

"Get off me, you creepy old -" Her voice was muffled as the man covered her mouth, but she didn't stop trying to get the insult out.

"Calm down," the man ordered quietly, leaning in. "I heard you 'n your little friend chatting about leaving. I don't think the boss would much like that, but I'll make you a deal, sweet cheeks. You an' me have some fun, and I'll pretend I never heard anything." Sammy jerked her head back, managing to catch him in the chin. When he hissed in pain, she bit down on his hand, getting a howl in response.

"Piss off!" She barely got the words out. Not a second later, the man retaliated with a punch to the back of girl's head.

Sammy let her cheek fall against the dirt, her head spinning from the blow. The man snickered as she stopped struggling, rubbing the sore spot on the girl's head and getting a whimper in response. A cloth was stuffed into Sammy's mouth, and she struggled again, crying out at the disgusting taste that hit her tongue. The item was tied around the back of her head, securing it in place.

"Dammit, stop your wiggling around, bitch!" The old man hissed, pinning her arms above her head. Sammy didn't give him the satisfaction of giving in, resisting every second. She felt bile raise from her throat as one of his hands slipped up her shirt, trying not to vomit. Her screams got louder, the muffle doing little to mask the noise now. Another blow to the head and Sammy quieted down, tears burning at her eyes. She couldn't hold them back as the hands started roaming over her body again. She stayed still, her tongue working at the nasty cloth in her mouth. If she could just get it out...

"Help!" She shrieked the word out as loud as she could once the item no longer obstructing her mouth. The sound was loud and shrill, a string of pleas following immediately after, and the girl hoped - _prayed_ \- that someone heard her and decided to help. Another blow to her head, and her face was shoved into the dirt, effectively silencing her cries.

Sammy struggled weakly, trying not to breath in dirt and grass as her head throbbed painfully. She felt the little amount of hope she had left drain from her body. Peter and Daniel were gone, both men out on a run into town. Sammy felt the sobs rip hopelessly from her body as the man started tugging at her pants. They came off with little resistance, the article if clothing a little too big on the half-starved girl. She was going to be violated by this disgusting, old man, and no one here would care enough to help her.

Tears blurred her vision when the man started licking and kissing her neck. She tried to jerk her body away from the man's touch, but her head throbbed painfully now, her vision swimming. She imagined that this was almost what it felt like to be ripped apart by a zombie, and the thought reignited the fire in the girl. She groaned and struggled pitifully, all in vain as the man continued his assault on her body.

The weight on her back suddenly vanished, and Sammy thought she heard a pained cry from the elderly man. She hoped the asshole was having a heart attack, but she didn't dwell on the thought as she pushed herself up and pulled her half-off pants back up around her waist. The knife she kept in the side of her shoe was still present so, despite the world spinning around her, she grabbed the weapon and held it out toward the old man, seeing him on the ground, groaning in pain. Sammy looked around for her savior, seeing a brunette wielding a baseball bat and staring down at the old man in disgust.

Sammy gave her a grateful look, relaxing only slightly when she recognized the woman as Abagail. Then, she turned a heated glare at the man, tears stinging her eyes. She rushed toward the man, stabbing him just above the knee. Her ears rang, the sound of the man's pained cry barely reaching her now in her enraged state.

"Stop crying, bitch!" Sammy yelled at him, landing a swift kick across the man's face. Blood flew from his mouth as the steel toed boot made contact, and Sammy found the sight oddly satisfying. So she did it again. She went in for a third kick, but she was held back. Instantly, she found herself struggling again.

Her name rang out in her ears, the sound difficult to hear passed the rush of blood. It was distinctively female and, while the girl didn't enjoy being restrained, she stopped struggling. The words became clearer as she calmed down, and she realized that it was Abagail speaking to her.

"Sammy," the girl called desperately. "Sammy, calm down..."

The voice drifted to silence when the girl finally stopped struggling. "He's down... It's okay..."

Sammy felt the arms around her loosen, and she took the chance to pry herself from the grasp. She didn't sheath her knife, her hand trembling as it held onto the weapon with undo force.

Hazel eyes drifted toward the elderly man, who was no long moving. "Pussy," she hissed, spitting down on the man. She tenderly felt the back of her head, wincing as her fingers brushed over the sore spot. "Should just kill him..." Her hand twitched at the thought, itching to stab the man in the head. How many other women had he attacked? How many would he in the future? Surely she would be doing the world a favor by getting rid of him.

"Sammy." Abigail's voice was unsure, watching the girl carefully. "It's not worth it..."

The two were quiet for a moment, Sammy glaring at the man on the ground and Abigail watching the girl cautiously. Sammy's eyes drifted toward the other girl, looking less than convinced. But she didn't move.

"Can we at least leave him here?" Her voice was quiet and frail now. "And hope that a walker eats his stupid ass?"

Abigail couldn't help but crack a smile at that. She didn't object, walking to the girl and lightly touching her shoulder. Sammy flinched away, grinding her teeth together. Her fear quickly turned to anger; angry at herself for being afraid. She hated being afraid, and it pissed her off that this man had caused that in her.

"Sorry," Abigail said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Shut up!" Sammy yelled at the girl, grabbing her bag before storming back toward the heart of the camp. Abigail glanced back at the old man, deciding to just leave him as Sammy had suggested before rushing after the girl.

"Sorry," the girl muttered again, Sammy turning on her heel and glaring at her.

"Stop apologizing, dammit!" She yelled, fighting back tears. She wasn't about to fall apart in front of this girl. She couldn't even fall apart in front of her best friend, so this near-stranger wouldn't be seeing her vulnerable side. Sammy took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves as she noticed the scared look on Abigail's face. "Sorry, I..." The words were quiet this time, and Sammy had to avert her eyes.

"Don't apologize," Abigail repeated Sammy's sentiment, shaking her head.

"Thank you.. for your help." She looked up to see the brunette offer her a smile. She didn't return the action. For once, she didn't feel like smiling. Smiling wouldn't improve her mood this time. She wanted to crawl under a rock and hide forever. Her hatred for the human race just seemed to increase with the number of people she met.

"Are you hurt?" Abigail asked, already knowing the answer. Sammy shook her head in response, but the glare from the brunette stopped her lie. "Let me check your head," she ordered, heading toward one of the RVs. Sammy silently followed, fear suddenly clutching at her chest at the thought of being alone. She pushed the emotion down, though, opting to focus on her breathing instead.

Abigail waited for her outside the RV, closing the door behind them once they were both inside. She grabbed the first aid supplies that the group had collected, sitting Sammy down at one of the tables. The two women were silent while Abigail worked, checking the extent of damage from the bump on her head. Sammy groaned in pain, resting her head in her arms on the table in front of her.

"Don't," she muttered, Abigail's hand shying away from her head. Sammy sat up, her eyes dull as she focused on something across the table. "Is it bleeding?"

"No," Abigail answer skeptically, seeing no blood on her hand, nor on the girl's head.

"Then there's nothing to do." Sammy turned toward the girl, pulling out a few supplies from the first aid kit and dropping them into her bag.

"What're you doing?" Abagail questioned, watching in surprise as the girl stood and started looting things from the RV.

"I'm leaving," Sammy answered honestly.

"What about your friends?"

Sammy paused only slightly in her looting before going back to loading up her bag. "As soon as they get back, we're leaving."

Silence ensued as Sammy continued her search.

"Can I come with you?" The question was so quiet that Sammy almost missed it. She stopped, staring at Abigail with a calculating gaze.

"Of course." The answer seemed obvious to her. Abigail had readily stood beside Peter, and after today, Sammy couldn't deny that the girl was a good person. Someone she would gladly travel with. "You saved my life. I need to return the favor someday." She finally smiled, for the first time since the event. It barely reached her eyes, though.

* * *

The two waited out on top of the RV for the two men to return. Sammy was wiping down her gun absentmindedly, more interested in the item being visible and in her hand than actually being cleaned. As if daring someone to try to bug them.

When she saw the familiar figures emerge from the trees, Sammy's heart leapt. She put her gun away, watching as the group checked in with another man in the camp. Peter's eyes drifted over, feeling the intense gaze on him. As soon as their eyes locked, Peter headed over. He could tell something was off with his friend, the fact being more important than cutting a rug with the man.

"Sammy," the blond greeted, staring up at the girl. Sammy only nodded in reply, and the sinking feeling in the boy's gut intensified. "What happened?"

"Nothing worth bring up," Sammy replied, not wanting to rekindle the subject. Bury it down, like it never happened. The look that Abigail gave her betrayed the words that were spoken.

The look on the boy's face hardened, but he didn't push the matter. It was a silent promise that the subject wouldn't just die here. The talk would come eventually, and Peter would be there to listen when it did. So he just nodded in reply.

When Daniel walked up beside the boy, Sammy plastered her smile back in place. She knew the boy would go ballistic if he found out what happened. He would probably get himself killed in the process, too. He was like a puppy; following around his master and trying to protect them from danger. But he was weak and naïve, and Sammy would just rather not risk him knowing something was wrong.

"Tonight?" Sammy's question was directed at Peter, and the boy understood instantly, nodding his approval. Daniel looked between the two in confusion, though he seemed to understand after a moment.

"Wanna take a stroll?" Peter questioned. Sammy didn't reply, just climbed down the ladder to meet the man on the ground.

"Stay with Abigail," Sammy ordered, her gaze locking briefly on Daniel.

"But-" Daniel's protest died on his lips as her eyes narrowed dangerously. He decided to nod instead, the boy's compliance seeming to pacify the girl's anger before the two walked off.

Abigail climbed off the RV, standing next to Daniel and watching the pair leave with worry in her eyes. "What's wrong?" Daniel asked, confused by the look.

"Nothing," Abigail replied, giving the boy a tight smile. "Just anxious for tonight." It wasn't a complete lie. The girl was a little bit worried about leaving the safety of the camp after dark.

"You're coming with?" Daniel seemed only a little surprised at the new discovery as Abigail nodded in response. Daniel stared at her thoughtfully, and the girl squirmed slightly under the gaze. "Sammy seems like she's in a bad mood," he mused after a few moments of silence. "I'm sure some extra supplies would make her feel better."

It was Abigail's turn to stare thoughtfully at the boy. "Yeah, you're right. I think I could get us some; can you create a distraction?"

Daniel grinned, happy that the girl was on board. "My middle name is distraction!"

* * *

Sammy doubled over as a wave of nausea hit her like a brick. She steadied herself on a tree trunk, groaning in disdain as her other hand rubbed absently at her stomach. As if she could will the feeling away.

"You okay?" Peter asked, resting a hand on the girl's back. He was surprised when she flinched at his touch. He didn't comment on it though, his hand falling to his side. His friend was obviously hurting, and for once, the boy wasn't sure what to do.

"I'll be fine," Sammy replied, though the strained voice was less than convincing.

"If you want to talk about it..." His voice drifted off as Sammy glanced back at him.

"I just wanna forget." The quiver in her voice caught Peter by surprise, but what really worried him were the tears that threatened to spill from her hazel eyes. He had known the woman for over ten years, but he had only seen her this distraught a handful of times, and he had only seen her cry maybe twice in his life. His lips pressed together tightly as he watched her straighten out her body and sigh shakily.

A high-pitched scream ripped through the air, drawing their attention away. The voice was vaguely familiar to the two, and worry built up in the girl's gut as she locked eyes with Peter. Without a second thought, they both rushed back to camp.

* * *

 **Fanfiction has made me such a cruel author... but my writing is improving, at least xD So my poor characters will have to bare with me to their (hopefully happy!) endings! Hopefully my foreshadowing will start improving, too... Everything is so obvious, I'm so bad at this! /shot**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello, readers! I've decided to throw out another chapter for you guys~! No luck with the job hunt yet.. but I gotta persevere! :O**

 **Anyway, I'll try to get another one out next week! I love all your reviews; even I don't reply, every one makes my day! So feel free to leave me a review, lovely readers~**

 **Enjoy the story! ^^**

* * *

 _Chapter fifteen: Escape_

 _Sometimes, you will find yourself in a dangerous situation. Held hostage by another group. Surrounded by a hoard of zombies with no escape route. It's only a matter of time before you find yourself between a rock and a hard place. The trick to getting out of these situations: a good plan, a calm head, good friends, and a shitton of dumb luck._

* * *

Peter reached the camp first, shooting through the thicket of trees. Sammy was hot on his trail, the sight before her taking her by surprise. The old man; hereafter known as Dillweed; stood in the middle of camp. He looked like he was having difficulty just standing, and his face was swollen almost passed the point of recognition. Sammy would have grinned at the pathetic state of the man, if it wasn't for the fact that she wished he was dead. The asshole wasn't even undead, much to the girl's displeasure. The scowl on her face deepened when his eyes landed on her. His disgusting finger lifted to point her out, and Sammy saw red.

"Kill him," she hissed out under her breath, catching Peter's attention. "I'm going to kill him..."

"Sammy." Peter's strained voice seemed to reach the girl in her angry haze. She glanced at him before her eyes scanned over the situation. A group of men were heading toward them, guns drawn. Sammy spotted Daniel further into camp, on his knees with a gun pressed to his head.

Sammy cursed under her breath. She vaguely considered the idea of trying to hold Peter hostage, but quickly dismissed the thought. Even if the men didn't know the two were best friends, she doubted that they cared enough about anyone's life to negotiate. With a growl bubbling up from her throat, she lifted her hands in surrender. Her eyes locked onto Peter, hoping the boy would give her some indication that he had a plan. But Peter just lifted his hands as well, his eyes hardened.

The two were quickly disarmed and forced to the center of the camp. Both were pushed onto their knees, Sammy snarling angrily at the man that pushed her down. "Don't touch me, you pig," she hissed, but the only response she got was the butt of a gun ramming into her head. She fell forward, grunting in pain as her face collided with the dirt. She really needed people to stop hitting her in the head.

"Sammy!" Daniel cried, a panicked look in his eye.

"Don't!" The sharp glare she shot at Daniel made him freeze. "Move.." She finished her order a little softer. Daniel's worried eyes didn't leave her, but he nodded silently.

"What's going on?" Peter questioned, his voice calm despite the storm brewing behind his eyes.

"This one," the man standing behind Daniel poked him in the head with his gun, causing the boy to flinch, "was trying to steal supplies. And we don't take kindly to thieves around here." Daniel whimpered quietly as the gun was pushed more forcefully against his skull.

Peter's eyes flashed dangerously as they landed on the boy. "Then kill him," Peter nearly yelled. "Why the hell do you have a gun on Sammy and I? We're not the idiots that tried to rob you."

"Ah, but Sammy here isn't innocent either," Dillweed slurred out. Sammy couldn't help the feral grin that pulled across her face as she realized his jaw was broken. Dillweed didn't seem to like the look, his eyes flashing dangerously. "You stupid bitch!" The words looked like they hurt to say, but Sammy's joy was short lived as the man kicked her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She curled into a ball now, covering her head to keep it from further damage as the man continued his assault. "You did this to me!"

Both men tensed as they watched on. Sammy didn't make a sound throughout the beating, other than the occasional restrained grunt. It just seemed to anger the man further. Someone eventually stepped in, though, and the girl's body relaxed slightly as the attacks stopped. She didn't move from her position, though. No one needed to see the tears that silently spilled from her eyes.

"Sammy?" Peter's voice trembled as he watched his friend's motionless body. The slight movement from the girl reassured him that she was still alive, at least. His gaze turned to Dillweed, a fire burning behind the steel blue orbs. "You." His voice was barely above a whisper as he glared at the man. "What did you do to her..?" He didn't get an answer; but he already knew the answer to that question. The distant mood, the tears, the way she flinched away from his touch. _I just want to forget..._ The words rang through his mind, his body trembling in anger. He wasn't going to die like this. He wasn't going to let Sammy die like this. His eyes discretely scanned the area. He just needed something... Anything.

Peter's eyes found Abigail, the girl hiding in the trees. Her eyes were wide, obviously terrified by the situation. Peters gaze hardened as he stared at the girl, hoping she would get his unspoken message. She looked startled when she realized the boy's eyes on her, but nodded as she understood. Peter let his gaze wander away from her as the brunette lifted her weapon.

The next few seconds happened in a flash. Shots rang out in the tense air. The first bullet hit its mark, the man behind Peter groaning out in pain as he fell to the ground. Peter moved quickly, grabbing the man's gun and shooting the man standing over Sammy, right between the eyes. A third shot rang out, and the one holding his gun against Daniel's head fell to the ground, a grunt of pain dying on his lips. Peter grabbed Dillweed before the man could run away. An arm went around his neck, his gun pointed between the remaining armed men. Daniel caught on after a second, grabbing a weapon. His hands trembled as he aimed the gun at anyone he saw as a threat, making his way over to the girl that still lay motionless on the ground. None of the other men moved to attack, scanning the trees for the hidden gunner.

"Sammy." Peter's voice still had the worried tremor, but he tried to keep it steady. "Sammy, we need to go now."

The girl stirred. A quiet groan escaped her lips as she pushed herself to her feet. Daniel let out a quiet sigh, relieved that the girl was okay; a little worse for wear, but okay none the less. Her eyes were dull as they looked around the area. "You work fast, Petey," she noted, a humorless laugh on her lips.

A quiet buzz caught everyone's attention, eyes scanning the area frantically for the source of the noise. When a small machine rolled into view, everyone froze, staring at the object in disbelief. A second later, someone shot at it, and the object exploded into a cloud of smoke, engulfing the center of the camp. More shots rang out as Sammy felt her legs pull her away. She ran by the edge of the forest where they were first captured, grabbing any discarded supplies she could from off the ground before disappearing into the thicket of trees.

She had no idea where her friends were, or if they had even made it out alive, but her legs seemed to move on their own as she fled. Her pace didn't slow until the shots she heard from camp faded to a distant ringing in her ears. Her legs finally gave under the stress, and Sammy went tumbling down. a sharp pain stabbed at her side, but she barely felt it passed the ache spread throughout her body. When she finally stopped moving, the girl tried to push herself up. Pain soared through her body, a wet cough escaping her lips. She wiped the warm liquid from her chin as she fell back, seeing the red smeared on her hand.

A bitter laugh ripped itself from her body, causing a short fit of coughs. "Is this really how I die?" she mused, her voice sounding grainy to her own ears. The thought didn't seem so terrible now, as the world around her became outlined in black. It was just like sleeping. An eternal nap. And Sammy was so tired. She gave in, closing her eyes and welcoming the darkness as shadows consumed her.

She swore she could hear her grandmother's voice calling out to her as she drifted out of consciousness.

* * *

 _Sometimes, though, there's only one way out. You can fight it all you want, but everyone dies eventually. When your time comes. it's easier to just accept it. Make piece with the world and let go._

 _Goodbye, Survivors._


	16. Chapter 16

**Good day, my lovely readers~ Gotta say, I'm sorry for all the cliffhangers. But, at the same time, not really~ I can't be unhappy with improvement, hehehe...**

 **This is a flashback chapter, mostly. Looking at the previous chapter from Peter's point of view.**

 **Reviews make me happy and make me want to write more and update sooner~ (I wasn't actually planning to post a chapter today, as I'm about to go on a day trip to drop a friend off in another town, but the latest lovely reviews made me more inclined to post this before leaving. So, thank the reviewers for this chapter~ :D And thank you, beautiful audience, for both liking and reviewing my work! ^^ )**

 **Enjoy ~**

* * *

 _Chapter sixteen: Loss_

Peter stared out the window, watching as the droplets of water crashed down against the glass. The room he sat in was warm and comforting, but the boy felt numb despite his surroundings. The memories were fresh in his mind.

 _The smoke bomb attached to Abigail's makeshift robot - how she managed to create such a thing after the world had gone shit was beyond him - had been shot, smoke billowing out and surrounding them. Peter pushed his gun to the old man's temple, not hesitating for a second to pull the trigger. The sick bastard deserved worse than that, but there was no time. The first gunshot started a chain reaction, a stray bullet from the enemy grazing his shoulder. Peter hissed in pain, a hand shooting up to grab the wound. He dropped the limp body in his grasp and fled into the forest._

"Peter." It was Daniel who spoke. His voice was tired, and the boy shuffled at the door, waiting for a reply that never came. With a sigh, Daniel walked into the room, and he soon stood over the blond. "Peter, you have to snap out of it."

Steel blue eyes glanced in his direction, and Daniel had to suppress a shiver at the intense look behind them.

"I don't have to do anything." Peter's voice was barely a whisper on his lips, but there was an undertone that made the other man uneasy. His eye hardened when they landed on the younger man that stood over him. "You, on the other hand, need to leave before I kill you."

Daniel paled at the threat, but sorrow clenches at the man's chest in place of the guilt. "Peter, it wasn't my fault! I didn't-"

"Get out!" The roar from the blond, doubled with the snarl on his face, made Daniel snap his mouth shut. He didn't move immediately; not until Peter grabbed the nearest object he could wrap his fingers around and launched it at the man. Daniel scurried out of the room, more objects flying toward him as he fled.

 _Peter's feet carried him away from camp as fast as he could run. He slowed after several seconds, his blue eyes darting around the forest. He was met with trees and silence. He let out a quiet string of curses, a hand running through his hair in frustration. He didn't have a plan for this; where would they met up? He couldn't bring himself to care about the dark haired man that had nearly gotten them killed; for all Peter cared, Daniel could have been shot during his escape. Abigail was undoubtedly safe and away from the camp at that point, too smart to be caught, so he didn't worry about her. But Sammy was hurt, and he needed to find her before something else happened. After all, when it rained, it seemed to pour._

Only after Daniel was gone did Peter stand from his spot on the ground, the anger building up inside him quicker than he could will it away. He kicked over a table in the room, the wooden object crashing to the floor and bouncing away from the force his blow. Anything he could grab, Peter threw across the room. Lamps and vases crashed against the wall, furniture was toppled over and broken. He grabbed the sword, stored up above the fireplace mantle, and nearly chucked it across the room. He stopped when it slid out of its sheath. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he stared at the blade, dry blood crusting over the metal. _Her_ blood.

 _Peter stopped short when he saw the two strangers. He glanced over the shorter man before his icy blue eyes landed on the backwater looking man. He had his crossbow at the ready, his face hardened and observant._

 _"We aren't going to hurt you," the shorter man stated. The look on Peter's face must have worried them, because the other man lifted his crossbow in aim. "We just want to help."_

 _"You wanna help?" The words were harsh, even to the blond's own ears. "Help me find my friend."_

 _And that was exactly what they did. The country man led the way, tracking where Sammy had ran. In retrospect, Peter probably could have tracked her himself. The girl practically tore a path in the forest, with easily spotted footprints and broken twigs everywhere._

 _"She tripped," Daryl stated, his fingers brushing over the kicked up dirt. Peter's eyes drifted down the incline, his blood running cold at what he saw. He ignored the other two men as he sped down the hill._

With a shaky breath, Peter grabbed the weapon and trudged into the kitchen. Not even the running water could lift his spirits as he wet a rag and started wiping away the dark, auburn substance that clung to the sword. When he finished, he carefully put the item back up on the mantle, along with its sheath, and left the destroyed room.

Abagail and Daniel stood in the hallway, both looking almost as grief-stricken as the blond. When they saw the boy, they both perked up.

"Peter," Abigail called out. She didn't even get a sideways glance from the boy as he turned and walked out of the house. Abigail turned to the other remaining person in the building. "Do you..." Her voice broke sightly, and she tried again. "Do you think he'll be okay?"

Daniel didn't answer immediately, just staring at the door. "Do you think any of us will be okay?" His retort was so quiet, the brunette had to strain her ears to hear him. She didn't answer though, her eyes drifting to the door as well.

Peter stalked down the streets, his hands in his pockets and his head down. It was only a matter of seconds before he was soaked from the heavy downpour, but he didn't even seem to notice. He just kept walking, letting his feet carry him wherever they may. He only stopped when a white object protruded before his feet. His eyes scanned up the steps slowly, barely taking in the off-white building in front of him.

 _"Sammy!" Peter cried out, dropping to his knees next to the motionless body. Blood. There was so much blood. Panic filled the blond, and he pressed his hands against the open wound on her side. He leaned forward, listening for breathing. The girl's breath was short and labored, barely breathing at all. "We have to help her!"_

 _He turned back to the company that had joined him, desperate for them to do something. Anything. He couldn't bring himself to care about the possible danger these two men might cause for him. He just wanted their help. Daryl made his way down first, Aaron close behind. It was the country man who lifted the girl off the ground. He didn't say a word, just started running._

 _Peter was hot on his heels. He barely registered when Daniel and Abigail met up with them. He remembered sitting in the back seat of a car, holding the wound on his friend's stomach as Aaron sped away. The body was pale and cold. Sammy's lips had started turning blue from the loss of blood. Peter's heart sank like a brick. She wasn't going to make it._

The pale, motionless body pushed its way into his mind. Blue eyes flashed dangerously before Peter turned on his heel and sprinted away from the building that doubled as an infirmary. He ran as fast as he could, trying to outrun the the images that continued to plague his mind. Red covered everything, blood splatters on the ground and all over his body. His hands, stained red.

His feet slipped on the sleek grass beneath him, and his body crashed down against the earth. He pushed himself onto his hands and knees, glaring down at the offending green foliage beneath him as the tears finally erupted from his eyes. He sat up, his glare turning upward as the rain pelted down on him.

He felt so helpless. He wanted to scream. To curse the heavens. Kill something; anything. Anything to alleviate the pain that ripped the sobs out of him. But he just closed his eyes and cried over the loss of his best friend. His sister.

* * *

 **R.I.P. ;0;**


	17. Chapter 17

**I've rewritten this chapter like 3 times, and I just don't like how it's been turning out... But, this will be my final attempt before moving on to the next chapter! So... In the words inspired by all my art teachers out there... Close enough!**

 **This early update was brought in part by: all the lovely reviewers. Seriously, you guys are amazing.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Chapter seventeen: Healing_

 _If you've survived a near-death experience, you'll usually find that you're body isn't very happy with you. It's a luxury now, really, but try to take some down time. Avoid activities like fighting, running and traveling, if at all possible. Give your body time to heal and you'll be back to 100% before you know it._

* * *

Sammy's eyes snapped open with a start. She sucked in a breath of air, the movement sending waves of pain through her body. The lights above her blinded her momentarily, and her ears rang loudly. If this was heaven, God was a dick.

Slowly, the ringing in the girl's ears died down, and she could make out words. The lights seemed to dull as her eyes adjusted. She vaguely registered the white walls and ceiling around her as a room; it was a room that she had never seen before, and panic gripped at the girl's chest.

"Sammy!" The masculine voice sounded familiar to the girl. "Sammy, you're alive! Holy shit, you're alive!"

Sammy barely got a glimpse of dark curls before she was crushed in a hug. Her groan caused the pain to subside, barely registering another presence in the room as the blond boy pulled him away.

"You hurt her one more time, and I swear to God, I will castrate you." The voice was cold, but Sammy instantly felt her fear vanish as she heard it.

The girl glanced toward the two men, her brain piecing together voices with faces and names. "What happened?" The words were barely a croak out of the girl's mouth, and they were succeeded by a string of coughs. When a bottle of water was offered to her, she gratefully chugged the cool liquid. The relief hit her so fast as the liquid soothed her sore throat, Sammy almost cried tears of joy. When the bottle was torn away from her lips, she growled angrily.

Her unspoken threat was met with a laugh. "Back to your normal self already, Sammy?"

"Please," the girl scoffed at the blond beside her. "I've had cramps that hurt worse than this."

She heard the uncomfortable cough over her friend's laughter, and Sammy realized that the room was filled with unfamiliar faces. Her body tensed again, and she pushed herself up into a sitting position. "The fuck are you guys?" Her eyes scanned over the two strange men on the other side of the room. One had dark, curly hair atop his head, cut rather short. He word a uniform, a gun visible in the holster on his waist. The other man had a much wilder look about him, his brown hair falling straight down, brushing at the base of his neck, and a messy goatee-beard-combo adorning his face. The stormy blue eyes locked onto the girl, and Sammy quickly averted her eyes at the intensity behind them. They lingered on the crossbow over the man's shoulder, and the girl absently felt for her own weapons. Hysteria took over as she found herself not only unarmed, but in a different outfit.

"The fuck are my weapons? And where the fuck are my clothes!? Where the fuck am I!?"

"Sammy, Sammy!" Peter's voice seemed to calm the girl, if only slightly. Her eyes met steel blue, and Peter's gaze softened once he saw her shoulders relax. "It's okay. We're in a community called Alexandria. You're stuff is safe, I have everything." Sammy slowly relaxed as the situation was explained to her. "And these kind gentlemen here," he motioned to the strangers in the room, and Sammy's eyes locked onto them, "are Rick and Daryl. They helped us out after we left the camp."

Sammy nodded, her eyes locking onto stormy blue again before her gaze returned to Peter. "How long was I out for?"

"Three days!" It was Daniel who answered this time, his voice much too loud and emotional for Sammy's head to appreciate. When those arms reached out to hug her again, she grabbed his shirt, keeping him at arms length as she snarled at him.

"I swear to whatever deity you believe in, if you try to hug me one more time, I will rip off your balls and force-feed them to you." The boy went pale at the threat. Sammy's next words were slow and deliberate, pausing for a moment after each syllable. "Do you understand?"

Daniel nodded mutely before he was released from her grip. As he fixed his shirt, Sammy let out a breath of relief. A choked laugh was heard in the following silence, and Sammy saw the country man - Daryl, she reminded herself - turned away as he tried to fight back the smirk on his face. A small grin pulled at her lips as she watched the man curiously. After a moment of silence, she turned back to Peter with a tame smile on her face. "So, what now?"

Peter's eyes drifted over to Rick, as though asking the same question. The man cleared his throat quietly as he stepped forward. Sammy's eyes instantly locked onto the movement.

"Well, our mayor would like to speak with you each," Rick stated. His eyes scanned over them before they landed on Peter; like he could sense another leader and his eyes were drawn over. "Individually." Sammy frowned at that. Rick didn't seem to notice the change in the girl's demeanor. If he did, he didn't address it. "Samantha can take a few more days to recover, if needed, but Deanna wants to interview the rest of your group as soon as possible."

Sammy coughed loudly, clearing her throat in the most dramatic way she could manage. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten to introduce myself in all the chaos." She smiled politely at Rick, but it didn't reach her eyes. Everyone in the room gave her a questioning look. "My name is Sammy. Say it with me now; Sam-my."

"Please stop trying to imitate Disney movies," Peter requested from the girl, a dry laugh on his lips as he shook his head. "Now's really not the time."

"Right, there are more important matters at hand," Sammy replied with an odd amount of enthusiasm. She lifted a hand in the air, her face looking so serious that it was almost comical. "Interview time!" A slap across the back of her head effectively dampened her enthusiasm. It wasn't hard, but it was more than enough to rattle the girl. "Yep, fourth time's the charm," she hissed out, doubling over and holding her head in pain. "Or is that five? Jesus, how many times did I hit my head?" She let out a quiet groan as the pain finally subsided. "I can just blame my odd behavior on a concussion, right?"

"Sure, but they'll all figure out you're just weird, sooner or later." Daniel couldn't keep the teasing grin off his face, the look only faltering slightly at the glare the girl shot him.

"Well, at least I don't scream like a little bitch," Sammy shot back, able to recall the high-pitched scream that had brought them back to camp. The red that consumed the boy's face brought a smirk to Sammy's lips, confirming her suspicions that it was Daniel who screamed like a girl.

"Once she stops babbling on like a lunatic, she can be interviewed." It was Peter who made the decision.

Sammy huffed out a sigh and settled back into the bed. "Yes, mom," she retorted with a roll of her eyes. The motion caused more pain in her head, her eyes fluttering closed as a more accepting sigh escaped. "Yeah, I can't even roll my eyes properly. I can't talk to someone without my greatest socializing asset."

A snort of laughter escaped one of the boys beside her, but she couldn't make out who as her consciousness began to slip away again. When she heard her name being called, her eyes fluttered open again.

"Get some rest, Sammy," Peter ordered once the girl's eyes focused on him again. He watched her closely, his eyes piercing.

Sammy hummed in response. Her eyes slipped shut, darkness consuming her once again.

* * *

 **Ahaha! Yeah, I'm not mean enough to kill off my main character! No worries~! Sammy will be around for a long while. I just needed a good serving of tragedy to balance out the upcoming mush in the next several chapters...**

 **So, Sammy has finally met the Walking Dead crew! Well, some of them, at least. It's a start! More interactions to come with the others; especially Daryl, in case that wasn't already guessed by all my readers. Hehe... Lotsa awkward fluff to come... can't wait~**

 **Until next time, readers! :D**


	18. Chapter 18

**I'm just going to come out and say it. I don't like the last chapter! Just don't... I'm probably going to end up completely rewriting it at some point (but I've rewritten it twice already, and I still don't like it... So it's a stubborn chapter, and maybe, one day, it will be better...). But, as I've stated in past chapters, this entire story is going to go up, unedited, and then I'll (probably) go back and change things. Mold them to my liking... Maybe add some extra chapters, if I feel that something is needed that wasn't added... But that'll be more for me than you guys; unless people wanna reread the same crap, just more polished. ^^; Anyway...**

 **Interviews! Yes, I did interviews for each of the characters... So you can get to know them a little better; deeper look into their backgrounds and how they react to one-on-one conversations (since there isn't a whole lot of that for anyone other than Sammy). I'm posting them all as different chapters, but I'm not going to make you guys wait a week for each one. Bleh, I would hate it if an author did that... All this junk going on, and then a bunch of lame filler... So It'll be more like a single chapter divided into four parts, and we'll get back on track with the main story next week (maybe, depending on when I actually post the next chapter, haha..). And, as we get more filler chapters, Sammy's journal entries will be less and less; probably a lot without journal entries at all. Partly because Sammy won't have a lot to write about during her down-time in the community. Mostly because my mind isn't full of zombie-survival tips that'll pertain to every situation in this story; and I enjoy when the journal entry and the story have at least a little bit in common.  
**

 **Enjoy~!**

* * *

 _Chapter eighteen: Peter._

* * *

Peter sat on the plush chair, a professional air about him. His left leg was crossed neatly over his right, his back was straight, and he had a friendly smile on his face. His sharp, blue eyes, though, betrayed his calm demeanor as he drank in his surroundings.

"Do you mind if I record this?" Deanna asked the boy.

"I have no objections to that," he agreed with a nod. He watched curiously as the woman turned the camera on. "Do you record all of the people you bring in?"

"If they permit it, yes."

"So you analyze how they preform under stress in order to understand how to pacify them when they act out." It almost sounded like a question, but he was certain that was a fact. "Primarily. I'm sure you have other uses for it, though." He nodded in thought. "It's a good idea, especially if you're bringing people in from the outside. I'm sure it's been difficult since the last group arrived. It's something akin to trying to domesticate a wolf, I assume."

"Well, you must be the brains of the group." Deanna sounded mildly impressed at his quick analysis. She also seemed to close herself up slightly, afraid the boy might read too much off her. Peter's eyes easily picked up her change in body language, discrete as the politician may have been.

"And here, we have a classic deflection," Peter muttered, a dry chuckle on his lips. "Try to make me look elsewhere, and hide something..." The unspoken question lingered in the air. _What are you hiding?_

Deanna tried not to fidget in her seat as the boy's calculating gaze locked onto her. "What did you do for a living, Peter?" The question seemed to clear the tense atmosphere.

"Psychiatry," Peter answered quickly, a bashful smile pulling his lips as he corrected himself. "Well, I was studying psychiatry. I never did finish school, you know, before civilization as we knew it ended."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Peter." There was sincerity in her condolence. "If it makes you feel better, you exude the professionalism and confidence of a licensed psychiatrist."

Peter laughed. "Okay, now I know it for sure," he mused, his voice lowering sightly. "You're a politician. No one just blindly compliments strangers like that to their face while silently plotting their demise behind there backs."

"I... I was a politician," Deanna confirmed, taken aback sightly by the man's words. "A councilwoman for the state of Ohio." She bit her lip, her gaze calculating. "What exactly did you mean by that?"

"The tapes," the boy answered simply. "You dissect their every move. Sure, you find what pacifies them in case they act out. But you also figure out what makes them tick. Their faults, their weaknesses." He smiled, and the action sent a strange chill through the room. "It's smart. Safe... I'm not judging you for it. I would do the same thing in your shoes." He paused, staring at Deanna differently now. "No..." His words were slow and deliberate. "You don't, do you? Because you don't know... You haven't seen it first hand..."

"Seen what?" Deanna was leaning forward in her seat now. The darkness she spotted passed the boy's bright eyes sent a chill down her spine, but his words intrigued her.

"You don't see what people are capable of now," Peter stated, sounding almost sympathetic toward the woman. "It's not the same as it was before. Not even close. People could be bad when civilization existed. Now it's hard to find a single person who hasn't been corrupted by the horrors of this world.

"I think you should make sure you know how to take down every person in here. If someone snaps..." He shook his head slowly. "You want to be able to protect the people behind this wall, right?" Deanna nodded slowly. "You can't always protect someone from themselves, but you should take precautions to protect them from each other.

"Because it's really not so different in here than it is out there. The game is the same, just different rules. It's all about survival. It's always been about survival."

The chill lingered in the silence after Peter finished. Deanna wasn't quite sure how to proceed, the words hitting her like a brick. "Why don't we focus on another subject?" The suggestion finally came out as the woman wracked her brain for a new subject.

"Sure," Peter agreed, a pacifying smile on his face. He knew better than that though; even if they changed the subject, the woman would be forced to face the world eventually. But he would let her hold on to her innocent optimism. "What do you have in mind?"

"Why don't you tell me about your companions?" Deanna suggested, visibly relaxing at the boy's change in demeanor. He didn't seem threatening; just more insightful to the world than she had expected him to openly show. "How long have you known them for?"

Peter nodded, glancing away as he thought over his words. "I've known Abigail for a while," he started slowly. "I met her in the last camp I set up in; maybe a month or two, but it's hard to keep track of time out there. She's quite an interesting person. Not quite conventional, but she's proved her worth several times over."

"That's always a good trait," Deanna agreed, a smile on her face. Peter just nodded in response.

"Daniel, on the other hand, is worthless." Peter frowned at his words, shaking his head. "No, I suppose he's not completely worthless. He just seems to get into trouble too often for his own good. I haven't known him for very long, but he seems to be a good enough person."

Deanna nodded slowly, picking up on the mixed feelings that the blond had for the other male in his group. She couldn't quite tell if he outright hated the man and was trying to cover it up, or if he just had his reserves over his usefulness. "What about the other girl?" Deanna changed the focus. "Samantha, was it?"

Peter nodded. "She prefers Sammy," he informed the woman with a whimsical smile. "She's an oddball. But she's a great person; probably one of the best people I've ever met."

Deanna smiled kindly at the boy. "You're very close to her," she noted. "Did you two know each other before everything happened?"

"Yeah." Peter faltered slightly. He looked away from the camera, a soft smile on his face. "Sammy and I have known each other since junior high, actually. I lived with her for a while during university. After college, I moved here, closer to the east coast. She was still in the Southwest and she traveled all the way here. Just to find me." He smiled wider as he turned back to the camera.

"That's sweet," Deanna cooed, looking truly moved by his words. "I'm glad that you were able to find each other, through everything."

"I don't think she can see it passed all the negatives," Peter mused aloud, more for himself than the woman. "But she's a miracle worker. No one else would have faced those odds and succeeded, but she did." And he honestly believed that; he may not have believed it before the world ended, but seeing her after her travels gave him a strange hope for the future of the world. She had grown so much since he had last seen her, and he didn't doubt now that she was capable of doing great things.


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello readers! (My last author's note was _super_ long, so I decided to put this here). I finally got a job! :DD It's fastfood, but hey, money is money. Unfortunately, like 98% of my time outside of work is spent sleeping now... but hopefully I'll build up my energy levels again before too long! Till then, I won't really be working on more chapters for the story, so I'll be relying on the prewritten chapters to get me through these trying times +3+**

 **Enjoy the story!**

* * *

 _Chapter nineteen: Daniel._

* * *

Daniel sat nervously in the arm chair. He twiddled his thumbs idly, his eyes slowly glancing around the room. Deanna couldn't help but think his demeanor was reminiscent of a good kid, sitting outside the principal's office for the first time and waiting for some sort of punishment.

"Do you mind if I record this?"

"That thing works?" He looked surprised at the fact. "Wait, I'm not ready to be on camera. I didn't do my hair or anything!" He ran his fingers through the dark locks, and Deanna laughed quietly at the boy.

"Relax, you look fine," she assured him. "Besides, no one will see this other than me, and I'm already here."

"Why do you even need to record it, then?" He looked baffled by the concept. "Wouldn't it be better to just think back on the event? That way, you wouldn't risk anyone else seeing it. I'm sure you've got a lot of personal information on your residents in these videos, don't you? It'd be awful if someone saw something confidential and used it against someone else." He looked genuinely concerned over the thought, his head tilting slightly as he spoke.

"The videos are locked away safely," the woman assured. "Why would you think someone would do something bad with it?" Her scrutinizing gaze was met with the most innocent look the woman had ever seen on a grown man, in this world or the last.

"There are bad people," Daniel said quietly, his eyes drifting downward as he recalled all of the people who had wronged him. Then, he remembered the way he had wronged others, a frown pulling at his lips. "And good people who do bad things..."

"Are you a bad person, Daniel?" Deanna asked, catching the look guilt that crossed the man's face.

"I'm not sure." His voice was quiet, his fists clenching on his lap. "I've done some things I regret... but it's difficult to be truly good and survive in this world. So maybe I am." His eyes met the camera, holding a deep sadness in their blue depths.

"What bad things have you done?" Deanna asked curiously, her tone holding no judgement. Daniel turned his gaze away. It was silent for several long second before he decided to reply.

"I've gotten people killed." His voice was quiet. "I've stolen, left people for dead." The latest truly bad deed was fresh in his mind, and it was the only one he truly found himself regretting. "I almost killed Sammy." The admission slipped out before he could really think about it, but once he got it off his chest, it snowballed.

"I stole her car and her supplies, and she should have just killed me when she had the chance. But she didn't..." He closed his mouth quickly, a strange look crossing his face.

"Tell me more about Sammy," Deanna pressed, noticing the change in the man.

Daniel let a bashful smile pull at his lips, not meeting the woman's eye. "Sammy? She's great." The words almost came out as a sigh. "She's strong, and smart, and kind. She's like an angel in this hell on earth."

"You sound like you really care for her."

Daniel flushed at her words. "Well, yeah," he stuttered, his eyes landing on one of the paintings that decorated the room. "She spared my life, and then she saved my life. More times than I can count. I owe her so much..."

Deanna pressed her lips together and took in the information. Several seconds of silence passed. "Tell me more about yourself, Daniel."

"Oh, me?" He looked bashful again, a shrug on his shoulders. "There's not really much to know."

"What did you do before?" Deanna pushed, giving a more direct question for the boy to answer.

"I, uh... I was a Scientist."

The woman raised her brows at the vague answer. "What type of scientist?"

"Biologist." Another short answer. He was starting to look uncomfortable now.

"Did you enjoy being a Biologist?" Deanna pressed, trying to figure out why the subject made him uncomfortable.

"Yeah, it was great," Daniel stated, a smile pulling at his lips. The look disappeared quickly, replaced with a frown. "I just, uh, don't like talking about the past. I miss everything, before all this, you know?" He was looking everywhere but toward Deanna now, also making a point to avoid looking at the camera.

The woman nodded in understanding. "I miss it, too," she agreed. "But, you're right. We're here now, and we have to make the best of what we're given." She offered him a smile.

Daniel returned the smile, but the gesture didn't quite reach his eyes. His stomach twisted itself into a knot, but he kept his mouth shut. He _did_ miss his life before the world ended; it was simpler then. He didn't have to fight to survive like he did now. He didn't have the gnawing feeling of guilt that came with the decision to abandon his responsibilities; Rebeca's face flashed into his mind, and he had to push the thought of her away when the nausea came along with it. He had let her down when she died in his arms, and he was letting her down by abandoning her last wish. More so, he couldn't fulfill the woman's final request; and that was a secret he planned on taking to the grave, even if it ate him alive.

* * *

 **Dun, dun, duuun! Well, we all know how our favorite heroine feels about secrets. I'm sure Daniel's secret isn't too bad. Or is it!? Nah, it's really not... Or _is_ it? Psh. Nah. Y'all will find out later. I'm leaving now, before I give spoilers for my own story... Bad TH, bad... Onward, to the next chapter!  
**


	20. Chapter 20

**Okay, so this is a chapter I was kinda looking forward to. Honestly, Abigail was just meant as a little side character with minimal importance; because I felt that another original character should be sucked into the madness that is Sammy's life. But as I developed her more, I found that I _really_ like the way her character is going. So this'll give a little insight to Abigail, who hasn't gotten much screen time since her arrival. And she might be a bit more of an influence in future chapters than I originally intended, but we shall see.  
**

 **Enjoy the story~**

* * *

 _Chapter twenty: Abagail_

* * *

The brunette sat quietly in the plush armchair. She took her time getting comfortable, slinging her legs over one of the armrests and curling slightly into the corner of the back of the seat. When Deanna finally spoke, Abigail's eyes barely glanced over the woman.

"Do you mind if I record this?" the politician asked as she clicked on the camera.

"Go for it," Abigail said, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly. "I've got nothing to hide."

Deanna nodded, turning on the camera. She observed the woman across from her as Abigail studied the room. "What's your name?"

"Abigail Porter," the brunette answered, her brown eyes landing on the older woman.

Deanna nodded in response, a polite smile on her face. "Nice to meet you, Abigail. My name is Deanna Monroe." Abigail merely nodded in response, not attempting to return the sentiment. "So, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself?"

"What's there to tell?" Abigail answered with a question of her own.

"Why don't we start with your occupation?" Deanna suggested, her smile not faltering.

"Well, I was an engineer before this whole apocalypse thing." She glanced upward, as though recalling a passed life. "I constructed robots. Actually, that's not completely accurate; I repaired machinery. I constructed crap-bots in high school. I learned how to do it properly in college. And I got a job that completely neglected to utilize my full potential." She nodded at her quick summary. "Such is life."

"Yes, I suppose it is," Deanna agreed slowly, her head bobbing in a curt nod. "But you're young, still. I'm sure you would have worked your way up to building the next Apollo."

Abigail laughed shortly at that. "That's the dream," she stated, though her tone was joking. "A big fucking pipe dream, now. If I had the know-how, I'd just build a ship and fly _myself_ to the moon; fuck this planet, I'm so done with zombies. But I'm no rocket scientist." Another shrug of her shoulders drew a quiet laugh from the politician.

"Well, you're closer to that goal than I am," she said, only half joking.

Abigail nodded shortly, a thoughtful look on her face. "Honestly," she said quietly, turning her gaze away, "if I had the right parts, I would absolutely try building a rocket ship. Especially in a settlement like this, with those huge walls. There's actually a chance that this place won't get overrun and we'd have to abandon everything."

"That won't happen," Deanna said, the confidence in her voice taking the younger woman by surprise. "My husband built these walls; they'll keep us all safe."

"Don't count on it," Abigail huffed, looking away from the woman. Her naivety pained the brunette.

"Why do you doubt it?" Deanna asked. She didn't sound upset, just curious.

"Zombies are like cockroaches," Abigail answered, a serious look in her eye as she glanced at the politician. "They travel in groups, they fear nothing, and they find ways in to places they're not wanted. If there's even the slightest fault in these walls _,_ they'll find a way in. It's only a matter of time."

"Well, they haven't found a way in yet," Deanna defended.

"Luck," Abigail chimed, looking less than impressed. "It also means that this settlement is full of people who don't know how to defend themselves against the undead. So, when one gets in, it'll infect someone. They'll be too afraid to tell anyone they were bit, so, they'll eventually get sick and die. When they come back as a zombie, others will get infected. Boom! A community, destroyed from the inside in less than a week." The brunnette shook her head, though she didn't look too sympathetic over her imaginary situation.

"I think that, when the time comes, my people will ban together for the greater good," Deanna stated, a tight smile pulling at her lips. "And we'll continue surviving."

"If you say so," Abigail muttered, throwing her legs over the chair to sit up properly. "Look, I'm not trying to bash your people here, so don't take it the wrong way. I'm just stating the facts; they're weak and inexperienced in dealing with this outbreak. When the time comes that they're forced to face the horrors of the outside world - yes, I said when, because it's only a matter of time - they're more likely to crash and burn."

Deanna pressed her lips together, leaning forward in her seat. "That's why we need more people like you," she stated, earning a curious look from Abigail. "To help us survive. You know what it's like beyond the wall; you've survived it. And you can help my people to survive, if they ever have to face it."

Abigail nodded slowly. Guard dogs. That's what the woman wanted, was glorified guard dogs to defend her precious home. The girl wasn't arguing, though; it was a nice place, and it deserved defending. But even the greatest empires fell; and that was at the hands of other humans, without the added bonus of undead searching to destroy life.

"Maybe you can work on a rocket ship while you wait for something bad to happen," Deanna suggested, her smile lighting up her face. "I can see about having someone bring back supplies for it."

"It'll take a lot more than some car scraps," Abigail scoffed, though she looked amused at the suggestion none the less.


	21. Chapter 21

_Chapter twenty-one: Sammy_

* * *

Sammy walked around the room slowly, taking it all in. The heel of her boots clicked quietly, almost silent against the hardwood floor. There were paintings - real paintings! The girl almost swooned at the large pictures that adorned the walls. The room held a soft elegance, the furniture obviously not something to scoff at. She suddenly felt the burn of jealousy toward the woman that sat at the couch across the way. These people had it lucky in the old world, and they started this new world with the same luck. She wanted to pry it from them like candy from an infant, and watch the hope leave there eyes as she crushed it beneath her foot. Instead, she tried to crush her anger back down. After all, it wasn't their fault that they were dealt a good hand. Not to mention, their luck had been the only reason she was still alive and kicking.

"Why don't you have a seat, Sammy?" The woman's voice was posh and refined and Sammy instantly hated her. Politicians were never good news.

"I'm not terribly comfortable sitting on furniture that costs more than both my kidneys on the black market," was Sammy's reply as she continued to wonder the room. She stopped at one of the large paintings, running a hand across the canvas with a sad look in her eyes.

"Are you an art enthusiast?" The woman's voice kept it's authoritive tone, even when she tried to make small talk.

"No." She didn't say anything else as she turned away and continued her trek.

"What about an artist?" Sammy paused at another painting.

"Yeah." She wanted to rip the frame off of the wall. Tear it. Burn it. Destroy it. Everything reminded her of the world before, and it just pissed her off more.

"We have art supplies," the woman stated, hoping to get a reaction from the girl. Sammy's hand twitched, the appendage longing for the feel of a brush.

"They don't have any use now." She walked to the armchair finally, running her finger along the material.

"I don't believe that." Deanna said firmly.

"Well, Neo Nazis didn't believe in the Holocaust, but that doesn't make it any less true."

"Well, what do you believe?"

"The Holocaust? It definitely happened. I don't think my teachers made up Anne Frank's diary, it's way too depressing and pathetic to be a work of fiction."

"I meant about art," Deanna tried again, furrowing her eyebrows together. The girl's deflections were affective, but the politician wasn't ready to give in so easily.

"It's useless," Sammy said, feeling like she had already covered the subject. She stopped what she was doing and looked at Deanna, careful to mask her emotions under a stoic demeanor. "It was a form of story telling and self expression."

"I don't think that's useless. It portrays a message to the viewer from the artist. Art can record important moments in history. Whether the moments are important to only the artist, or the entire world, it's important."

"But it can't help you survive," Sammy argued, her eyebrows pulling together. She was getting frustrated with the woman now. Did she not realize that there wasn't a place for art in this new world? "In fact, it's more likely to get you killed. So it's less than useless, it's dangerous."

Sammy finally sat in the arm chair, shifting uncomfortably before crossing her legs at the knee and staring into the camera with dark eyes. "Why are you filming this anyway?"

"We're all about transparency here," Deanna stated in her pseudo governmental tone, and Sammy barked out a bitter laugh.

"So you'll get to see what I am behind a one way mirror." She made a crazy face into the mirror, followed by a string of funny faces. "There's your show, that's all there is to me." She stood up in the chair again, unable to sit still as anger bubbled up inside her. "Turmoil buried under crazy and smothered in humor."

"I think there's more to you than that... But this isn't just for me," the woman assured. "You can ask me whatever you want."

"How do I know you'll give me an honest answer?"

Deanna pressed her lips together in thought. She stood from her spot on the couch and walked to the window to look out at her community. "Do you see all those people out there?"

Sammy stopped her irratic pacing and stared out the window. She watched the happy faces of the settlers, a frown pulling at her lips. "Yeah..."

"These are my people. It's my responsibility to keep them safe. I need people like you, people who know how to survive, to help me and help them survive." She looked to Sammy and smiled. "You can understand the need to protect your family, right?"

Sammy felt a tug at her heart. "Yeah, I get it." She stared out silently at the people now, her eyes dark. "You won't be able to save them, though." She looked the woman dead in the eye, her gaze not faltering. "Not all of them. You can't. And people like me are a double edged sword. You need us, to help you survive. Just because we're here doesn't mean we'll be of any use. Or safe, even. I..." She faltered now, turning away. "I've seen a lot of shit in this world, and the one before. People will step on each other to get ahead, that hasn't changed. I've seen people strung up as zombie bait. People left to die while others escaped. People who kill others just because they think it's fun; people who kill other people to eat them."

"But I don't think you've done any of that." Deanna's voice was quiet and confident.

Sammy didn't answer right away. Had she done any of that before? So many people died traveling with her. Was she really sure that she hadn't been the cause? "I really don't remember..."

"I think you would remember killing someone in such a terrible manner." The woman was relentless.

"I don't remember anyone I killed." She closed her eyes. "I remembered people that almost got me killed. I remember people that got my friends killed. And I remember people that I wish I had killed. But I don't remember anyone that I've actually killed. Human or biter... Fuck, they're all the same. All they want is to survive, and every fucking one of them..." She opened her eyes, a fire burning behind them as she stared out at the people. She just saw potential killers and zombie bait. Nothing in between. Was there anything in between anymore?

"Even the people you're trying so hard to keep alive. How many of them wouldn't throw you under the bus to save their own ass? Him." She pointed, her finger thudding against the glass, at a man that smiled kindly to a lady as she walked passed. She could see it in the man's eyes; and she would be sure to stear clear of him. "He would be one of the rapists that isn't even kind enough to put a bullet through the poor woman's head when he finished. That child right there." It was an older boy, sightly bigger then the kids he was playing with. "He would become a tyrant, if he survived long enough. Steal from those who could barely defend themselves. Kill and raid." The boy pushed another, smaller child to the ground, but made no move to help the child as it began to cry. Sammy pried her eyes away from the scene, just working herself up now. "The only difference between a man and a killer is exposure. The more you're around death, the more desensitized you become to it. And the entire world is a war zone now. Anyone that can survive outside these wall isn't someone who should be inside."

"Are your saying I shouldn't let you stay?" Deanna asked.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." She didn't hesitate, didn't look at the woman. "I've been out there too long." She laughed bitterly and ran a hand through her hair. She couldn't help the crack in her voice. "It's easier for me now to just survive. All of this other shit, I can't..." She paused, staring at the painting that she wanted to rip to shreds. It just reminded her of everything before and she couldn't keep the tears out of her eyes. "I don't think I could function right behind these walls. It's been so long..." She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "Peter is someone you'll want, if you do take people in. He's the one that can jump in and out of this life and thrive on both ends. I don't know how he does it, but he does.

"Daniel, he's just a kid. He shouldn't have survived for as long as he has. But... He belongs in a place like this. Even Abigail, I'm sure, is more suited to this lifestyle. So let them all in, they'll be of use to you. I won't. I'll just drag the entire community down." She stared out the window with wide eyes now. She read every one of the people that walked by. They were all like open books to her, each one hiding their demons behind their eyes. The woman with long blonde hair, she was weak in so many ways, but Sammy could see the strong will burning in her. A man with dark curly hair walked by in a cop uniform, and his demeanor sent chills up her spine. She recognized the man from when she woke up in the infirmery, but his aura seemed more intimidating now than it had been before. He would either save them or kill them all.

"That's Rick Grimes," Deanna informed her, following the girl's gaze. When silence followed, her eyes traveled back to to the girl beside her. She waited for something, but Sammy just continued staring at the man. "You're free to leave, Sammy. I won't force you to stay, nor will I deny your friends shelter here if you want to leave."

"I don't want to leave," Sammy whispered. She blinked slowly, not able to look at the woman. Her eyes picked them out of the rest of the settlers. The survivors. The ones that she wanted to make ties with. The ones that were like her. "I wanna stay. I really do. I'm just not sure if I can." No, this place would eventually fall. There were no paradises in this world anymore. No angels walked the earth now. Only demons. And this place would fall to their wrath. It was only a matter of time.


	22. Chapter 22

**Hola, chillens! So, I have actually been writing a lot of AU one-shots for this story; I wanted to wait a little bit longer before posting any of them in the _Drabbles with Daryl Dixon_ story I have. Unfortunately (more for me than you guys), I have a problem actually _ending_ my one-shots when I'm so invested... So, I might actually post a few more separate stories following Sammy and Daryl's relationship in different scenarios. (For example, I wanted to do a short story for season one, to show how Sammy might interact with Merle and earlier-on Daryl. But it's turned into nearly ten chapters, easy, and my brain won't shut off. So, keep an eye out for an AU where Sammy is with the group from the beginning~!). I'll still be working on this story, of course. I just wanted to give everyone a heads-up on future stories for Darebear~ I also _try_ to not follow the show word-for-word; it's a difficult task when I'm trying to integrate an OC into a pre-existing story, but I know how annoying it is to read over everything that you've already seen (especially if you dig around for other stories like me and find like 50 that do that, and then you're just like "ugh, I've already read this same shit like fifty times," and just give up on the story because you don't feel like reading over everything again with just little tidbits of changes... but, I digress). So, I try to add my own flare and change it up to keep it interesting for people who have seen/read it a billion times already :"D (Hopefully I succeed in that aspect...)  
**

 **Anyway, this is just a little filler with minimal Daryl interaction. There is much more to come, but I figured that things would start off a little bit slow with the country man. With how closed off he is in the later seasons, it might take a little digging for Sammy to work her way under his skin P: So, without further ado:**

 **Enjoy~!**

* * *

 _Chapter twenty-two: Optimism_

 _If you ever find yourself in a structurally secure settlement with running water and and a large ration of food, you should thank your lucky stars. I don't know about all of you, but the three things I miss most about the world before; hot showers, warm beds, and sturdy houses. And video games, I really miss video games; but I digress._

* * *

Sammy sighed quietly as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. The condensation still clung on the piece of glass from her hot shower, blurring out her image a bit. She could make out the details now; her hair had grown a little passed her shoulder blades; when straight, at least; and the once chestnut brown locks had lightened to an almost honey color from the constant exposure to the sun. Her eyes were greener now than they usually were, but the purple bags that formed beneath them betrayed her terrible sleeping patterns. Her face had tanned slightly, her cheeks sun-kissed and much slimmer since she had last seen her reflection, but it still had the same roundness to it. She was much thinner over all than she had ever seen herself, but her chest and hips were still sizeable thanks to her broad build. A curse, really, given how often she had to run and sleep on the ground.

The girl let out another sigh as she rubbed the towel over her head to rid it of the excess water. Tossing the dampened item aside to dry, she exited the bathroom. Sammy couldn't help but feel in awe again over the luxuriousness of the building as she took in the bedroom for a second time that day. She and Peter had offered to share the master bedroom, leaving the two remaining rooms for Abagail and Daniel to choose from. The walls were an off-white with tan trim and, if you looked closely, you could see the patterns carved along the bottom of the entire room. The sandy-colored carpets were plush beneath the girl's aching feet, her toes wiggling comfortably into the threads. Sammy couldn't remember ever being in such a fancy place, even before the undead walked the earth. She let out a giddy laugh before grabbing her shoes and going to look for her friend. She could see the other two rooms down the hallway, doors shut and lights off as the other inhabitants of the house slept, unable to resist the lull of a soft bed.

Sammy could see the fourth inhabitant just outside. The front door was open wide, the glass of the screen door easily exposing the world outside. Peter was sitting on the top step of the porch, and Sammy opted to sit beside him as she ran her fingers through her honey blonde hair in an attempt to detangle the strands that had been neglected for the passed year.

"It's quiet here," Peter mused aloud, breaking the silence between them.

"Yeah," Sammy replied. The girl had hardly seen a soul since leaving the infirmary; only the occasional resident roaming the streets. Now that night was falling, most of the community had taken shelter in their own homes for the evening. "And it's not a heart-pounding sort of silence like out there."

The boy hummed in agreement, looking up and down the streets. "She said we could explore," he reminded his friend, referring to the woman who had interviewed them. Deanna was her name, if Sammy recalled correctly. The girl had never been good with names.

Sammy's eyes scanned around at the houses lining the street as she slipped on her boots, feeling nostalgic. Their white painted exteriors stood out against the darkening sky. It reminded her of her college days, when she and Peter had been roommates. They had taken late-night strolls, going wherever was open at the time. In the small town they had been in, there weren't a whole lot of places to accommodate the night owls.

"It'd be like the old days, when we'd wonder around in the middle of the night," Sammy mused as she leaned back on her palms, the hard, smooth wood beneath her hands such a strange texture from the grass and dirt she was used to feeling.

"No convenient store nearby to raid, though," Peter pointed out, sounding a little resentful of the fact.

Sammy laughed, the sound ringing out in the quiet night air. "Well, we could always check around for a convenient store, but I'd like to take a break from raiding for a little while."

"Fair enough," Peter said with a quiet laugh in return.

Sammy rubbed at her head, playing with her mass of damp locks as they began to pull themselves into curls. She looked down at the clothes that she now adorned, the tank top and jean shorts making her feel a little uncomfortable. She missed the thickness of the leather jacket that she had been wearing for the past few months, but she was more than a little grateful for the clean clothes. Even if they exposed more skin than she was used to.

Sammy stood up, a small smile adorning her face. "Wanna explore with me?" she questioned the blond.

Peter stood up, smiling easily as he hopped down the steps. "Always," was his simple reply as he waited for Sammy to join him.

The girl grinned in response as she descended the steps to stand next to him. She latched her arm around his before dragging him through the town with her. It was only a few minutes into their walk before the boy's attention was stolen away.

"Puppy!" Peter yelled as he saw a child being pulled along by a full grown dog on a leash. The man detached himself from Sammy's grip and ran over to the two, both the boy and the dog looking a little weary as the blond approached them excitedly. Sammy laughed quietly at her friend as she watched the dog sniff his hand and quickly accept him, the little boy deciding to trust his pet's instincts. Sammy let her eyes roam from the seen to look around at her surroundings, her eyes locking with familiar dark blue orbs. The country man stood in a garage nearby, looking like he had been working on his bike before the noise stole his attention.

"Hi," Sammy greeted awkwardly as her heart beat faster. She wasn't sure what it was about this guy; the thick muscles that he showed off in his sleeveless tops, the rugged backwater look he adorned, or the intense look in his eyes. Maybe it was the fact that he had seen her so vulnerable, but something about him made her feel awkward and small around him. She walked a little closer to the man and offering him a smile. "I don't think we've met properly, Daryl." She stopped just outside the garage, not wanting to invade the man's domain. "I'm Sammy."

The man nodded quietly, his voice low and gruff when he did speak. "Sammy?" he repeated the name as though he recognized it from somewhere else, even if only slightly. "You gotta last name, Sammy?"

"Does it really matter at this point?" the girl asked with a quiet chuckle and a swift shrug of her shoulders. She buried her hands in her pocket, almost expecting to feel the coarse cover of her notebook there. When her fingers met with nothing but denim, the bundle of nerves that had formed in her stomach seemed to go crazy.

Daryl's eyes picked up on the slight change in the girl, eyeing the hand that was stuffed in her pocket. He was reminded of the notebook he found: Sammy G. was the author, but it could just be a coincidence. None the less, his eyes traveled back up to meet the girl's, the dark blue orbs saying so much more than his lips revealed. "Yeah," he answered her question. "It does."

But, despite his words, he didn't pry when he was met with silence. Sammy stared at him for several long seconds as he continued working on his bike, trying to figure him out. She knew there was more to him than met the eye; she could feel something just beyond the surface, and she was determined to find out what that was.

"Do you have a last name, Daryl?" the girl asked curiously. The man didn't even look up at her question, his focus occupied by the vehicle.

"Yeah," was his only response. Sammy waited several seconds, hoping he would continue, but silence ensued. It wasn't long before Peter was making his way back over to her.

"Hey, sorry about that," the man said with a breathless laugh as he stood at her side. "You know how I get when I see a puppy."

"Or a full grown dog," Sammy teased, turning her attention to her friend. "Or a fox, or a wolf, or anything that even slightly resembles a canine."

Peter just laughed bashfully in response as he scratched his head. Sammy turned back to Daryl, the look in her eyes changing drastically from the mischievous glint as they landed on him.

"Night, Daryl," the girl called quietly to him. He glanced up in time to see the smile that graced her lips. "Thanks for everything,"

Daryl stared after the pair as they walked away. His eyes strayed downward, locking in on the firm looking backside of the denim shorts. The gaze traveled downward still, taking in the nicely toned legs. He mentally sent a thanks to whoever picked out the outfit for the young woman, but quickly shook the thoughts out of his head when she left his line of sight. She was pretty, but it wouldn't do him any good to let himself be swayed by her good looks. Feelings and hormones were a bad thing to let take control of you, even more so now than it had been before. He returned to his bike again, the methodical cleaning and fine tuning taking his mind of off everything else around him.

* * *

 _Never lose hope that things will get better. Nothing lasts forever; those crappy times will end eventually. You just have to keep pushing passed that to get to something better._

 _Keep your optimism, Survivors._


	23. Chapter 23

_Chapter twenty-three: Supply Run_

* * *

Sammy wandered through the community, a tan bag slung over one shoulder and her eyes scanning her surroundings. She was still having a hard time adjusting to living in the safety of Alexandria; she never seemed to be able to let her guard down, but neither did she particularly _want_ to. She knew that no place could be truly safe in this world, so when her eyes wandered around looking for a threat, she didn't even think to try to stop them. Instead, she decided to put the searching to good use. Getting out of the community would do her some good, she was certain, but her lingering wounds made her skeptical about exiting the gates alone.

"Hey," Sammy called when she found the person she was looking for. She approached the man, pressing her lips together in thought. "You're the person in charge of coordinating supply runs, right?" She had asked around the community about that, and he was the only one who fit the description the other settlers had given.

The dark haired Asian man looked at her, squinting slightly to block out some of the sunlight that hit his eyes in the process. He was on the short side, though he still had a few inches on the girl, and Sammy could tell the boy was agile just from his lanky, toned build. "Yeah, I'm Glenn," the boy introduced, his kind tone almost taking Sammy by surprise.

"Sammy," the girl stated, giving him a winning smile in return. "I was wondering if I could join you on the next run; maybe some of my people, too, if that's not too much to ask."

Glenn's eyes strayed from her as he mulled over the request, and he frowned when they locked onto something in the distance. Following his gaze, Sammy saw the scrawny white man with strawberry blond curls on his head. He looked weak and skiddish. Although the woman had never actually spoken to the blond, she had seen him around during her short time in Alexandria and didn't really care for his attitude.

"Sure," Glenn answered, though he seemed less than certain of his choice. "You can't be worse than him..." The words were spoken under his breath, but Sammy didn't miss it.

"They're not made to survive this world," Sammy stated, her voice low. She pried her eyes away from the man in the distance as he walked inside a building, her hazel orbs observing the Asian man before her. "They're not like us. And I don't think they can help it." Glenn's dark eyes locked onto Sammy, his gaze calculating.

"Yeah, I think you're right," he agreed after a moment of thought. A tight smile pulled at his lips, and he turned to leave. "I'll let you know when the next run is planned out."

"Hold on, little dude," Sammy called after him, jogging slightly so she was standing beside him again. Glenn stopped to give her a baffled look at the title the girl had just given him. "I think these will come in handy." She held out the tan bag to him, the item slouching with the weight of the content it held. Glenn took the bag cautiously and peeked inside. "Smoke bombs, flash grenades and I believe some flares. The last group I was with had access to some pretty useful military weapons and stuff, so we took a few things with us."

She stuffed her hands in her pockets when Glenn's eyes lifted to meet hers again. A slightly more genuine smile tugged at his lips now as he closed the bag and carefully slung it over one shoulder. "Cool," he commented with a nod. "This'll be a huge help, thanks."

Sammy nodded in response, giving the man a leisurely nod as he headed off again. "Keep me posted," she called to him before shoving her hands in the confines of her jean pockets again and sauntering off.

And Glenn did just that, informing the girl by the end of the day to be ready the following morning. Sammy found herself oddly excited for the run. She was ready by the time the sun rose in the sky, waking Peter so that the man could join in.

They filed out if the house and to the gate. The van was already at the entrance, Glenn standing next to it and reading over a list in his hands.

"Guten morgen!" Sammy greeted excitedly, waving at the small group. The response she got from the others was less enthusiastic, most seeming to want to crawl back into their bed.

"Morning, Sammy," Glenn greeted with a tight smile. His eyes landed on Peter, and he extended his hand to the blond man. "Hey, I'm Glenn."

"Peter," the boy returned with a kind smile as they shook hands.

"You guys ready?" The question from the Asian man widened Sammy's grin. She was more than ready to get out of the stifling community for a while. After being on bed rest for so long, she was itching to explore the surrounding area.

"You bet," Sammy answered. Glenn nodded in response and handed them each a piece of paper.

"Okay, this everything we need to look for on this run." The two scanned over the list, committing it to memory. Neither really wanted to look over a list while danger loomed around them. "If you find anything else of use, grab it."

He was cut short when a woman with short, brown hair strolled over, standing close to the Asian boy. "Morning, Maggie," he greeted with a bright smile, but before he could get any more out, the girl pulled him in for a kiss.

Sammy flushed, her head snapping away from the unexpected display of affection. PDA had always made her uncomfortable. She was grateful when the two parted, but she still averted her eyes as they stood close to one another and passed quiet words of comfort over the Asian's safe return.

She spotted Daryl approaching and shot the man a smile. "Hey, Daryl," she greeted. "Are you going with?" She jerked her thumb toward the van, fixing the man with a curious look.

"Goin' hunting," he answered gruffly, shrugging the crossbow on his shoulder.

Sammy nodded in understanding, a new smile pulling at her lips. "Did you need anything from town?"

The question slipped out so pleasantly, it almost sounded like she was going to take a quick stroll to the grocery store. Like it wouldn't be infested with flesh eating monsters. It took the country man by suprise.

Daryl opened his mouth, but closed it almost immediately. As though thinking on the question. Eventually, he just shook his head and continued silently toward the gate.

"Oh, hey, Daryl," Glenn greeted, just realizing the man's presence. He had a smile on his face, but he barely got a glance from the man.

"Chinaman," Daryl greeted with a nod.

"I'd really appreciate it if you used his name," Maggie drawled, quick to jump to Glenn's defense.

A smirk pulled at the country man's lips, but he didn't respond as he left through the gates. Glenn pressed his lips together in a tight line as he watched. But, with a shake of his head, a carefree smile was back on his face.

"Just Daryl being Daryl," he mused, turning his attention back to the two newcomers. "This lovely lady," he motioned to the woman beside him, "is my wife, Maggie."

Greetings and introductions were exchanged, but Maggie seemed less than enthusiastic about meeting new people. Still, she kept a polite smile as they shook hands. After a quick farewell, and an order to her husband to be careful, the woman left. Not long after, the small group of scavengers loaded into the van and headed off toward the nearby town.

Sammy and Peter rode in the back, every bump on the road nearly sending them into the roof. The ride grated on the girl's nerves, but she did her best to keep her optimism for the trip, starting up a game of 'I Spy' with her friend to take her mind off of the bumpy roads.

The van slowed to a stop, and Sammy stared out the window at the surrounding area. There were several small buildings scattered about, though they had parked a good distance away from any of them. The girl spotted a shopping mall, the large building standing out from the smaller shops that littered the area around it. She turned her attention back to the Glenn when the man started talking. He easily took front and center, and the look in his eyes told everyone that he knew what he was doing.

"We stick together," his eyes focused mostly on the newcomers, making sure that Sammy and Peter understood his rules. "Follow my lead. Get in, get out. No loud noises; no shouting, and no gunfire unless absuletly necessary. If we get seperated for any reason, meet back at the van." His eyes took on a dangerous look as they scanned over the group. "If you're not back in an hour, be prepared to be left behind. We can't wait around forever for someone who might be dead."

The hair's on the back of Sammy's neck stood in attention. She didn't expect to see such a dark side from the seemingly carefree boy. Though, she wasn't really one to talk. Silently, she nodded in understanding. The mood seemed to lighten slightly when Glenn offered his group a reasurring smile.

"And remember to be careful." With that, the group piled out of the van, weapons at the ready. Sammy and Peter easily fell into the rhythem, staying in formation and taking out any zombie that strayed too close.

They eventually reached the mall and entered through a door in the back; part of the building had already been cleared out by previous groups from Alexandria. From the size of the building, Sammy realized that this group would not be the last to raid the shopping center.

They made their way into a sports store, footsteps quiet and weapons at the ready. Glenn motioned for them to secure the area, and everyone spread out as they searched the shop. Sammy made sure to keep Peter in her line of sight as she scouted the store for anything useful.

A large portion of the store had already been cleaned out. Mostly, though, things had just been knocked off the shelves in favor of the more useful items. So Sammy let her eyes sweep over the ground as she sidestepped the useless items littered around her. When her eyes locked onto a granola bar kicked partly under the shelves, she bent over to check it out. The expiration date was well passed, so with a quiet breath, she set it back down. That's when she spotted something else hidden beneath the shelf.

Carefully, she reached under the extruding piece of metal. Her fingers traced over the long, thin cylinder before circling around it. As she retracted her hand, her eyes met with a nice arrow, and she instantly thought of the country man with his crossbow. With a smile, she stuck the item into her bag before searching for more hidden under the shelves. She managed to find ten altogether, though they weren't all the same, and she stuffed them into her bag. As her fingers continued brushing beneath the shelves, she heard a pained cry a few isles down.

She unsheathed her sword quietly, quick to make her way over.

A loud thud could be heard from the store's entrance, causing the girl to jump slightly. She gripped her sword handle a little tighter and picked up her pace as she tried to slow her rapid heartbeat. When a hand grabbed at her leg, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Her sword flew of its own accord, stopping just shy of its mark when the man at the other end let out a panicked noise.

"Jesus, you scared the shit outta me," Sammy hissed, kneeling down beside the man. She looked him over, seeing the blood that ran down his left arm.

"Just help me out here," the guy grumbled, holding the wound.

"What happened?" Sammy questioned as she got to work. She ripped off what was left of the sleeve of the man's shirt, using it as a tourniquet just above the wound to stop the bleeding.

"The shelf was broken back there," he nudged his head back down the isle he had been in. "I didn't see a piece of metal that was sticking out and I sliced my arm on it."

"Ok, we'll get you taken care of," Sammy reassured the man with a gentle smile. "What's your name?"

"Greg," the man answered, a quiet hiss of pain escaping his lips when Sammy poured some of her water on the wound, cleaning off as much blood as she could.

Another thud filled the air, and Sammy jumped at the noise. More thuds followed, and Sammy hurried in her actions. She pulled out some gauze, wrapping up the gash to the best of her ability before pulling the man to his feet.

"Shit," Sammy muttered, her eyes scanning the room for the other inhabitants. Either the man's cry of pain or the scent of fresh blood had drawn the walkers that roamed the mall crashing into the front of the sporting goods store. With the loud thuds that filled the silence, it was only a matter of time before they found themselves trapped there.

As soon as she spotted Peter's blond hair peeking over the isles, she headed in his direction. "Stay close," she instructed Greg quietly as she moved. He didn't say a word as he followed.

"Petey," Sammy called to the boy once he was in earshot. "Where's everyone else? We need to get out of here before every zombie asshole in the mall starts knocking at our door."

Peter nodded in understanding, sparing Greg a glance. His eyes lingered on the wrapped up wound, though. "Not a bite?" he questioned, nodding toward the other man.

"Cut himself," Sammy answered before the guy could even open his mouth. "I assume that's why walkers are hoarding up just outside." She glanced toward the entrance, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched more zombies press themselves against the glass panel that separates the two areas.

"I'm sorry," Greg muttered, a graveness to his voice.

Sammy offered the man a smile. "Don't even trip, man," she reassured, her tone light-hearted. "We'll get out of here and you'll be patched up and in your warm bed before you know it."

"If anyone can make sure of that, it's Sammy," Peter added, giving the man his own reassuring smile. Greg looked grateful at the words.

"Dude, too much pressure," Sammy grumbled at her friend. "You know I do better with negative reinforcement."

"Right," Peter whispered back. "Chances of him getting home are pretty slim. His blood will only draw more walkers. I doubt you'll even get him out of the mall." The smile never left his face despite the negative words.

"Bitch, please," Sammy grumbled, a grin pulling at her lips. "I'll bet you my ration of chocolates for the week that we get him home."

"I'll take you up on that," Peter laughed out before scouting the store for the others.

"You guys are betting chocolate on my life?" Greg hissed. Any reassurance that he had felt only moments prior was gone.

"Sorry," Sammy apologized, sparing the man a smile. "If it makes you feel better, I'd gladly take on an army of zombie for more chocolate. So you're probably safer now than before the bet."

The man looked less than convinced, but he said nothing as Glenn and the others met up with them.

"What happened?" Glenn hissed, his eyes scanning over his companions before locking onto the front of the shop. "Is everyone okay?"

Peter briefly explained the situation to the Asian man, and Glenn's eyes landed on Greg. An enraged look filled his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. He did a headcount to make sure everyone was accounted for before giving his team a plan of action.

"Only way out is through the front," he stated. "We'll have to try to draw them away from the door." Gears ran through his head as he thought of exactly how to go about doing that.

"Do you have that bag I gave you yesterday?" Sammy questioned, her eyes burning into the man. Glenn nodded, a lightbulb seeming to click on in his mind. "Okay, how about this? One of us on either side of the glass to draw them away from the door. I'll go out there; throw a smoke bomb in one direction and draw more away in the opposite direction; once the coast is clear, you guys get out."

"I'll go with you," Peter stated, his gaze locking onto the girl.

She shook her head. "It'll be easier by myself."

"You don't need to sacrifice yourself," Glenn hissed, a flash of anger shining through his eyes.

Sammy just grinned in return. "It's only a sacrifice if I die, and I don't plan on dying. I promise, I can do this."

The unwaivering resolve in the girl's eyes killed the Asian's argument. He looked back at the entrance, seeing the slowly increasing hoard of zombies pounding and scratching at the glass. If they didn't move soon, there wouldn't be a way out. Glenn nodded silently, giving the others their orders before the group headed to the front.

Peter and Greg started pounding on either side of the glass, and instantly the walkers were drawn towards the noise. Sammy kept her distance, smoke grenade at the ready. When Glenn gave her a quick nod, she rushed to the door; the Asian man was at her heels, shutting the barrier behind her.

Sammy worked quickly, tossing the grenade to her left as she darted toward the right. She whistled loud enough to draw the attention of the hoard closer to her, while the other half were drawn to the hiss of the grenade as smoke flooded out of it.

The girl kept moving, taking out any zombie that got too close. She had taken out five before the rest of the group filed out of the store. Unfortunately, as soon as Greg left the area, almost every undead eye seemed to lock onto him. The moans got louder as the scent of fresh blood reached their noses, and they shifted directions.

Sammy cursed under her breath as she made a B-line for the others.

Well, she tried to, anyway. It wasn't long before the sea of undead swarmed around them, and she was separated from the group. She called out, her stomach twisting in knots when she was only met with lifeless eyes and disgusting grunts. She did the only sane thing she could think of to do. She started fighting the hoard of walkers.

One bumped into her from behind, but she was quick to elbow the creature, affectively shoving onto the ground before taking it out. Just when she thought she would be overwhelmed by the undead, she caught sight of another living. Glenn plunged his knife into a zombie a few yards away, and Sammy took off after him. Her heart dropped when she saw he was alone.

"Where are the others?" she asked quickly, standing at the boy's back so they could effectively take out any zombies around them.

"They're heading towards the exit," Glenn stated, barely sparing her a glance before stabbing another zombie in front of him. "Let's go." He took off again as soon as the order left his mouth, and Sammy was hot on his trail. She thought she could see the others ahead, but they were cut off by another wave of zombies that caught sight of them.

"This way!" Glenn called, turning down a hallway. Sammy followed after a final glance toward the group. She knew that her and Glenn wouldn't be able to make it through that. Just ahead, there was another cluster of walkers heading their way. Sammy turned around, but the way they came was already stuffed with undead. "Here!" she called as she pushed open a door. She was met with linoleum floors and porcelain thrones. She held the door open as Glen darted in, pushing it shut and fumbling with the lock. "Shit, it won't lock!" She pushed harder as she felt the pounding and scratching from the other side. The door continued to pry open as more zombies pushed themselves into it. Glenn was at her side in a heartbeat, using all his strength to help the girl hold the only barrier shut.

Sammy turned away from the door, her eyes quickly scanning over the room. No windows. She cursed, her eyes drifting upward. Her gaze locked onto the only other possible exit.

"The vents," Sammy stated, her voice less strained than she had expected. She turned to Glenn, her eyes urgent. "That's our only option."

"You've gotta be kidding me," the Asian man breathed out, glancing up as well.

"Go!" Sammy hissed, glaring at the Asian man beside her now. The door behind them thudded, and Sammy slammed her body against it in retaliation.

Glenn gave her a strange look. "I'm not leaving you behind, Sammy!"

"Get the vent open!" The door was pried open once more, Glenn's face turning red at the exertion of keeping it shut. "I'll be right behind you. Just hurry!" Glenn gave her a worried look once more, but Sammy knew exactly what to say to kill the argument on his lips. "You have a wife to get back to."

Glenn swallowed hard, but he finally gave in. A bob of his head, and he was off. He quickly went to work, climbing one of the toilets and pulling at a vent above it. Sammy did her best to hold the hoard back on her own, her boots sliding against the linoleum floor as the door was slowly pried open by dead hands.

"Hurry, please," Sammy hissed out, leaning away from the opening as arms reached for her through the increasing space.

"I'm trying," Glenn replied, the metal rattling loudly at the effort. When it popped off, the boy found himself on the ground with a searing pain in his shoulder. "Shit!" He hissed, grabbing at his arm.

"No time, Chinaman!" Sammy called out as the first zombie squeezed through. "Up! Get up!" She stepped away from the door, her sword plunging into the first skull as the door burst open and the creatures stumbled in.

Glenn was quick to recover, climbing the toilet once more and pulling himself into the vent. Only, he wasn't able to. He yelled out in pain as he dropped back onto the toilet, grabbing at his shoulder again. Sammy sliced another zombie head off, a string of curses leaving her lips. She thought fast, dispatching several walkers at the front of the hoard and watching as the ones behind it stumbled and crawled over the pile of twice dead bodies. It would give them a little more time.

She then rushed to the Asian man, grabbing his foot and boosting him up into the vent. Glenn breathed out a sigh of relief when he reached safety, trying to turn around to help the girl up. Unfortunately, the vents were too small for the man to turn.

"Sammy, can you get up?" he called out passed the growls that flooded in from below.

"Yeah," the girl grunted as she climbed up. Her legs flailed desperately, looking for a foothold that wasn't there as she relied solely on her upper body strength. That had never been a strong point for her and she wished now that she had worked on that more. Her leg collided with something, and she tried not to scream out when she felt a hand wrap around her ankle. "Fuck!" She called out, panic lacing her voice as she kicked against the thing that had a hold on her. Her arms slipped, and with a feeling of dread, she felt herself being pulled down.

The noise around her seemed to vanish, drowned out by the rush of blood in her ears as she tried to keep from being dragged into the sea of undead that waited below. She reached out desperately, her hand latching onto the Asian man's ankle. "Pull me up!" She ordered, her free leg still trying to detach the creature that held her. Glenn did as she said, crawling forward with all the strength he could muster.

Sammy's leg collided with something - a face, she could only assume - and she felt the weight pulling her down disperse. With Glenn's help, she managed to pull herself into the vent before collapsing, gasping for air.

"Thanks," she said shakily.

"No problem," Glenn breathed out.

Sammy couldn't quiet relax yet, though, and it wasn't just because of the desperate growls of the zombies below. No, she was living out her nightmare right now. Trapped in a space that barely allowed for movement; during a time where the dead came back to life. She pushed herself forward, urging the Asian man to move as well.

"If we run into a zombie up here, I can't promise that I won't scream like a little bitch," Sammy whispered harshly to the man ahead of her. Her confession drew a strained laugh from him.

"I'll be screaming right along side you," Glenn stated, his voice labored as he pushed on.

The two continued crawling. Aside from the occasional thud from a knee or elbow hitting the metal around them, the trek was silent. When a growl echoed around them, Sammy jumped so hard that her head whacked the top of the vent. Then she froze, mentally screaming at herself for her mistake. Glenn stopped as well, and she could feel the nervousness radiating off the man.

The growl came again, and Sammy had to bite her knuckle to keep herself from trembling. It was getting closer. She slapped the Asian man's leg hurriedly. "Keep moving," she whispered, her voice waivering sightly. "Find a way out."

Glenn nodded, moving as silently as he could and keeping an eye out for an exit. As the man rounded a corner, he let out a string of curses, loud banging sounding the struggle.

"Glenn?" Sammy called, her blood running cold at the loud growl that met her ear.

"Crap!" Glenn groaned. "I can't get to my knife!"

Sammy cursed under her breath, fumbling to grab the knife strapped to her waist. A tremor ran through her body when another growl sounded from behind her. She glanced back to see the rotting body drag itself toward her. She sucked in a breath, grabbing the knife and sliding it forward.

"Knife," she called out to the man. Glenn reacted quickly, grabbing the weapon with one hand and keeping the zombie front of him at bay with his other arm.

Sammy then reached for the knife in her boot, but her fingers barely managed to brush the handle before the creature behind her was grabbing at her feet. She kicked out, hearing a crunch as her boot smashed the creature's nose into its face.

"Gotta 'nother one back here," Sammy called as she shimmied closer to the Asian boy to get away from the zombie behind her. She kicked out again, catching the jaw. One more kick and the bone dislocated. But she didn't stop there. Her foot seemed to move of its own accord as she repeatedly kicked the creature in the face.

The metal around them groaned loudly in protest of the weight, and Sammy paused after another blow to the zombie, looking around her worriedly.

"Oh no," she whispered. "Please don't-" A scream ripped from her as the vent collapsed beneath her and Glenn. The man let out a yell of his own as the two fell into the room below.

Sammy didn't take as much time to recover as she would have liked. She grabbed her sword, dispatching the mush-faced zombie at her feet. By the time she scrambled up, Glenn had already taken care of the other one. Sammy let out a shaky breath of air, her eyes sweeping over the area for any other threats. There were several zombies scattered throughout the shop they found themselves in; at least ten. And every one of them had locked onto the only two living things in the room.

With a shaky breath, Sammy got to work. She took out the closest ones first. Her arms were sore from over exertion, but she didn't falter as she sliced and stabbed the undead heads. Glenn was on his feet and helping her within seconds; every time he used his right arm, though, he would let out a pained growl. Neither of them stopped until the immediate threat was taken care of, though. Sammy's eyes scanned around again as she wiped her sword off on her shirt; the room was dark, but she didn't see any other movement. It looked like some sort of storage room, and Sammy's eyes lit up as she realized that none of the boxes had been disturbed. She pushed that pleasant thought to the back of her mind as she approached Glenn.

"Your arm okay?" she whispered, eyes scanning the man for any visible injuries.

"Yeah," Glenn answered, glancing at the girl. "Just hurt my shoulder, but I'll be fine. You?"

"Fine," Sammy answered with a smile. "In other news, we might find something useful in here. It looks like we're the first to find this room."

Glenn allowed a smile to pull at his lips at the good news. He nodded to the girl before his eyes swept the room. "Let's make sure there's nothing else in here before searching the boxes."

"And make sure we have a way out," Sammy added as the two began their sweep of the room. As the girl had initially thought, there wasn't anything else in the room, and the two quickly started going through boxes.

"We have to leave," Greg groaned, holding his wounded arm. The rest of the group had made it to the van. Peter glanced at the wounded man, his eyes hardening dangerously.

"No, we don't leave people behind," the blond stated, his voice even despite his inner turmoil.

"He's right," a redhead agreed with Peter; her name was Grace, the blond remembered from their introductions. "We need to go in after them."

"Are you crazy?" Greg hissed, sending the girl a glare. "There's no way they made! You saw that huge hoard. And your want to go back in there!?"

"We don't leave people behind," Grace shot back, her eyes holding hostility equivalent to the man's fear. "They weren't dead when we last saw them, and they're still alive as far as we know! But they won't be for long if we don't help them!"

Peter shook his head, glancing between the two. "Quiet," he ordered, his calm voice commanding authority. "We don't leave, we don't go in."

"So you want us to just sit on our asses and hope for the best?" Grace questioned, looking at the man like he was crazy.

Peter nodded. "They'll make it," he informed the girl. There wasn't even a hint of doubt on the man's voice, his gaze unwaivering as he stared at the woman. "If we go back in, we'll just cause more trouble for them. We need to stay here and be ready to go when they reach the van." The heated look the redhead gave him didn't deter his choice. Peter crossed his arms over his chest, eyes landing back on the building. "If you don't like sitting around waiting, why don't you take a look at Greg's arm?"

The girl's glare faltered, but she didn't reply. She just jumped into the back of the van, Greg following silently behind her. No one spoke another word as they waited.

It was a good twenty minutes before Sammy and Glenn were spotted on the horizon. Both of their bags were stuffed full of supplies, and Sammy carried a box under her left arm, her sword at the ready in her right. Peter was the first to rush toward them, taking the box out of his friend's arm. Grace followed, taking the Asian man's bag. Glenn thanked her with tired eyes, and the group hurried back to the van.

"Were did you guys find all this stuff?" Greg asked as they loaded there bags into the back.

"We fell into a storage room," Glenn answered.

"Fell?" Peter questioned, his gaze shifting from Glenn to Sammy. The girl's face fell as a quiet groan escaped her.

"Oh man... serious PTSD," Sammy answered, shaking her head as she jumped into the van.

"AC vents," Glenn grumbled as he climbed into the front of the van, sounding just as eager as the girl to relive the experience.

Peter followed after his friend, taking his spot next to her. The vehicle started up and, as they drove away, the blond threw an arm over Sammy's shoulder. The girl didn't hesitate to return the hug, cuddling into his side as they rode in silence. She appreciated the boy's comfort more than she could verbally express; with the way she clung to him, she was certain that he knew that.

* * *

When the group reached the community, Sammy couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped her lips. While this wouldn't be the last run she'd participate in, she was definitely going to take a long break from going back into the city. One look at Peter told her that the boy shared her sentiment.

"I'm going to go take a nap," Peter groaned out quietly, looking as bad as the girl felt. She gave her friend a smile and a pat on the back.

"I'll catch up later," she assured the boy as he headed home. Sammy still had one last stop before she could turn in for the day. She headed off for another house in the community, knocking on the door.

The town's head constable answered, a weary look on his face. The look vanished when his eyes landed on the girl, replaced with an icy, calculating look and smothered with a fake smile. "Can I help you?"

Sammy felt her confidence drain at the man's authoritive presence. She had never been good around law enforcement; she had never been a criminal, but the uniform alone always seemed to put her on edge. She shifted nervously on her feet, clutching the bag over her shoulder. "I'm, uh, looking for Daryl?" She looked around, hoping she had the right house. This was where she had seen him before, though she absently thought that she might have the wrong place.

Rick's tight smile softened a bit, and he stepped aside to let the girl in. "He's in the living room," the man informed. Sammy followed him to the room, trying not to let her eyes stray around the house. It was difficult when everyone in the building seemed to stop what they were doing to peek out of their respective rooms and stare intently at the girl.

When they reached the livingroom, Daryl came into sight. The man was alone in the room, but opting to sit on the floor despite the many chairs in the room. He leaned leasurely against a wall as he ate a late lunch, barely pausing when Rick entered.

"You got a visitor," Rick informed the man, almost laughing at the confused look he got in return. Sammy pivoted around the officer and walked up to the country man, offering him a smile. Rick watched the interaction for a moment before deciding to give the two some privacy. Sammy didn't seem like a threat, and he knew that Daryl could take care of her if she became one.

"Hey, Daryl," she greeted, setting the bag down between them as she sat in front of him. She did her absolution best not to come off as awkward, but that side of her was more difficult to keep hidden after the kind of day she'd had.

"Shoulda' guessed it was you," the man grumbled, continuing his meal. "You stalking me or something?" He was being somewhat serious, but the red that consumed Sammy's face made him crack a small smile.

"No!" she answered, appalled that the thought would even cross his mind. Did she really come off as a stalker? Maybe she should just stop bugging the man. With an irritated sigh, she shook her head and opened the bag, fishing in it for the items she wanted. "For your information, I found something you might like."

Daryl paused his eating, now starting curiously at the girl. Sammy pulled the bolts out, one at a time, being careful not to stab herself with them. Once she was sure she got them all out, she smiled proudly at the man.

Daryl just stared back. The silence went on for several seconds before Sammy cleared her throat and stood up. "Well, that was all," she said awkwardly, her fatigue catching up with her now.

"Why?" the country man grumbled, looking down at the arrows with his brow pulled together. He couldn't seem to figure the girl out. One minute, she would be happily chatting away with him, and the next she would run like a scared child. Why did she keep talking to him if she was afraid of him?

"Huh?" was Sammy's elegant response to the question.

Daryl's gaze locked onto the girl standing over him. The intense look in his eyes knocked the breath out of Sammy. "Why'd you get these? I said I didn't need anything."

The girl thought it over for a second. A shrug rose from her shoulders. "I don't know," she muttered back to the man, a hand straying into her pocket. "I found them, and I thought you might appreciate more ammo for your crossbow."

Daryl opened his mouth, but closed it almost immediately. He looked down at the bolts again and muttered out a quick thanks. Sammy sighed, annoyance clear in the sound, and Daryl's eyes shot back up to the tired face before him.

"Stop doing that," Sammy grumbled at the man. She was met with a confused look from the country man, and she huffed again, averting her eyes. "I just spent the day tip-toeing around zombies, I don't feel like trying to figure you out right now. If you've got something to say, just say it. You're not gonna hurt my feelings, or some stupid shit like that." Her hard look was now fixed on Daryl, and the man raised an eyebrow at her. She could see a spark of surprise in his eyes, but he hid it well.

"These ain't the right bolts," Daryl stated, and the fight drained from Sammy. That's what the man was trying to avoid. It made him uncomfortable to see the new girl deflate like that, considering how happy she always seemed to be.

"Dammit," she muttered. "After all that, and they're not..." She shook her head, a sigh escaping her lips. "Well, sorry." She turned to leave, but her name on the man's lips made her pause.

"Sammy." Daryl locked eyes with the girl, his lips pressed together in a tight line. "Thank you."

Heat spread to the girl's cheeks at those intense, blue eyes. A smile pulled at her lips and, though it lacked her usual optimism, the action was genuine. She knew he wasn't thanking her for the bolts so much as he was for thinking of him. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on the Sammy's part, but she swore his cheeks gained a little extra color. "I'll be sure to get the right kind next time around," she promised before heading out of the house and toward her own. She had a warm bed calling her name, and wanted nothing more than to cuddle under the blankets and pass out.


	24. Chapter 24

**HAD TO REWRITE THIS CHAPTER BECAUSE I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT, UUUGH! I really need to stop trying to switch back and forth between my computer and phone, because it's obviously not working... ;-;**

 ***Sigh. I hope you all enjoy this little chapter... It's kinda a filler, but it's important for the Daryl/Sammy plot... So I had to rewrite it, I couldn't just omit it. /le sob.**

 **In other news, I'm getting evicted~! Yay~ (It's just shit storm after shit storm with my life right now, ain't it? :'D) So, I'm posting this chapter early, while I still have a chance to do so... And I'll try to keep updating every Sunday, but I'm not sure what my internet situation is going to be by next week... So, next update might be late... Sorry... Wish me luck in finding enough money for a new place (deposits are a tax on the poor... I'm tired of being poor... ;~; )**

 **Enjoy the story~**

* * *

 _Chapter twenty-four: Passing Time_

* * *

Sammy sat outside, a small bonfire peeking out from a shallow hole in the ground before her. Her friends had joined her in the outing, all of them feeling uncomfortable and caged inside the building like the girl had. After a few odd looks from the other settlers in the community, Sammy had opted to start roasting her ration of marshmallows. It wasn't long before the odd, comforting event for the four survivors became an outing for the entire community.

First, the constables of the town had checked in to make sure that the group wasn't planning to make a ruckus. After they were 'okay'ed on the event by the law enforcers, more people started to crowd around the area. Children ran around, laughing and playing and roasting their own stash of marshmallows. Someone had brought chocolate, and another person had gotten their hands on some graham crackers. Soon, the community was having a make-shift s'mores event. While Sammy would have rather roasted marshmallows in silence with her small group, she had to admit that the lively atmosphere did wonders for lifting her spirits. She could tell from the smiling faces around her that almost everyone got some good out of the event.

But, it wasn't long before it died down. As the sky grew darker, more people left. Children's curfews were reached, and families left for the comforts that the indoors provided them. Soon, only the more seasoned veterans from Sammy and Rick's group remained, the roar of life dying down as the more naive people departed.

"I have a game!" Sammy exclaimed suddenly, all eyes at least sparing the girl a quick glance at her announcement. "'Stupid Stuff That Scared You Before the Apocalypse.'" She said the name so easily, but no one seemed terribly enthused at her idea of fun. She puffed her cheeks in disdain as she stared around at the disinterested group. "Well, maybe it needs an easier name, but at least it's a thought." The words came out as a hushed mutter from the girl.

"Lightning," Daniel announced, starting off the game. When Sammy shot the boy a grin, he continued with a bashful smile. "I remember doing something stupid as a kid and almost getting struck. It's just something I've always been terrified of." He shrugged lightly, feeling like the fear was silly in comparison to the zombie apocalypse now.

"Water," Abigail muttered, looking disinterested despite her participation. "Fucks up electronics. It's more of a hatred than a fear, though." She laughed at herself, eliciting a few chuckles from some of the others in the group as well.

"My mom," Sammy pitched in as she stabbed a stick into a new marshmallow. She watched the flames dance in front of her as she cooked the sugary item, a nostalgic smile pulling at her lips. "That woman had a fierce temper, and she didn't take shit from anyone." That drew a laugh from a few people in the group. "I'd like to think she's still alive out there, somewhere." She drifted off a bit as she saw Daryl from the corner of her eye, her smile widening slightly. "In fact, I'm sure she is. That woman was a hell of a survivor." She drew the marshmallow toward her lips, blowing out the flame. When she stood from her spot, she lightly touched Peter's arm and made her way toward the gates.

Peter understood instantly, picking up the game as the girl walked away. "I'm terrified of heights," the blond stated with a slight shiver. Sammy couldn't help the chuckle that passed her lips at her friend's easy lie. Of course he wouldn't share his fears with a bunch of strangers.

As Sammy drew closer to the country man, she noticed the squirrel strung up at his waist. Her eyes lit up at the sight, and she used the opportunity to start a conversation with the man. "I'll trade you a marshmallow for a squirrel," she offered, catching the man by surprise when she held the golden-brown marshmallow into his line of sight. He stared at the food with wide eyes before his gaze landed on the girl. She didn't give him a chance to respond, though. "No, that sounds unfair. I'd say one squirrel is worth about..." She glanced down at the string of squirrels, using the opportunity to trail her eyes over the man's body. "Five marshmallows," she offered, her eyes returning to Daryl's with a smile on her lips.

"They ain't skinned yet," Daryl muttered uncertainly. He didn't take his eyes off the girl.

"Three marshmallows and you teach me how to skin a squirrel?" Sammy negotiated, the man's eyes widening in surprise once more. As the silence drew out, Sammy felt her resolve chip away. A slight shrug pulled her shoulders upwards, and she looked away. "If you don't like my offer, I'm willing to negotiate."

"Three's fine," Daryl grumbled, looking a little uncertain. His lips pressed into a thin line as Sammy grinned up at him once more. Before he could reply, she took off toward the bonfire. Daryl followed behind her slowly, watching as she made Peter scoot over so there was more room for him.

"Sit," Sammy ordered cheerfully as she patted the spot beside her. Daryl silently obeyed, sitting in the spot and dropping the squirrels in front of him. Sammy set a small bag stuffed full of marshmallows in front of the man before she grabbed one of the little animals, pulling a pocket knife out of her front pocket and flipping it open. "Help yourself. And we're playing 'Stupid Stuff That Scared You Before the Apocalypse', if you'd like to join in." Her eager eyes landed on Daryl, but the man was silent as he took his time getting comfortable.

Daryl wiped his hands off on his jeans, removing the dirt and grime from the day's work. He then looked down at the marshmallows in front of him, suddenly feeling very silly. There they all were, sitting in front of a fire, roasting marshmallows and sharing stories. It almost felt like they were on a boring camping trip, safe in their front yard. It _almost_ felt like the dead weren't walking the earth.

A huff of air escaped the man's lips, and he grabbed a discarded stick that a previous marshmallow roaster had left behind. He stabbed it through one of the puffy, white balls of sugar, holding it over the fire and watching as the flame consumed it. As he cooked the thing, Sammy set some chocolate and graham crackers in front of him as well.

"Help yourself," the girl said, her voice a little quieter now. "I'm trying not to indulge myself; wouldn't want to get fat."

Daryl's eyes swept absently over the girl, and a scoff escaped his lips. The way he was raised up, a thick girl meant a healthy girl. Maybe times had made it difficult for a girl to get a good meal on a regular basis, but the thought of turning down food because you're afraid of getting _fat_ seemed ridiculous. "You look half starved," he informed her, glancing at her through the corner of his eye as he turned his head back toward the fire. "Indulge yourself, darlin'. A little fat never hurt no one."

Sammy's cheeks turned red at the nickname he chose, a laugh escaping her lips. "Right, I'll keep that in mind." Her eyes shone with mirth as she watched the country man, and Daryl felt a little uneasy under the girl's gaze. "So, how do I skin this thing?" She motioned to the animal in her hand, pocket knife at the ready.

"Well, first off, you need something better than that pussy knife you got there," Daryl started, pulling out his hunting knife and handing it to the girl. Sammy's eyes shone as she took the tool, putting her own knife away. While she wouldn't refer to any of her blades as "pussy knives", the girl had to admit that the hunting knife the man had was impressive. It was good quality, and Sammy absently wondered if he had it before everything happened or if he found the treasure while scavenging. A story for another time, perhaps. She sat quietly as the man instructed her, pointing out where to cut and what to do. Before long, her first animal was soon skinned and gutted.

Daniel found himself holding back a few gags as he watched Sammy work, the blood making him queasy. He stood from his spot on the ground and headed toward the house. "Daniel," Sammy called to the boy as he left, drawing his attention. "Will you bring me my bag?" The boy nodded in response and continued his trek to the house. Sammy's eyes wandered back to the animal in her hands. "Gonna cook this bad boy on an open fire!" She practically sang the words out as she stabbed a stick through it. "And it's gonna be delicious." She paused for a moment, looking up in thought. "Well, I'm not actually sure. I've never had squirrel before, so this'll be a new experience."

Daryl let out a quiet chuckle at the girl's odd behavior. But no one spoke, and Sammy hummed quietly as she did her best to clean her bloodied hands off on her pants. Daniel came back not long after, a gag retching from his throat as he approached the girl, and dropped her bag beside her.

"That's so gross," Daniel muttered as he headed back to the house.

"You're missing out, Danny-boy!" Sammy called after the man, but he just waved off her teasing as he continued on. "So, what should I spice this with?" Sammy questioned aloud, turning to Peter as she opened a front pocket in her bag, which held a wide variety of spices. All of her favorites, which she had actually managed to keep with her throughout her travels. It wasn't often that the girl got to use them, most of her meals in the past year having consisted of canned goods and pre-spiced foods. She couldn't help the giddy laugh that escaped her. "Peter, you'll be my sou-chef," she ordered, her voice almost serious as she gave the boy a hard look. "I'm counting on you."

"I won't let you down, boss!" The blond gave the girl a mock salute before a grin spread across his face and he started lining the spices up in front of them both. "Do we want spicy? Italian? Greek?"

"Gross," Sammy retorted, making a face at the boy. "Why would I have _Greek_ spices?" She turned to Daryl with a grin, the man pausing as he took a bite out of his s'mores when the girl's intense gaze suddenly landed on him. "You're the expert on squirrels here. What kind of spices would be good with it?"

Daryl finished his bite, chewing slowly as he stared on at the girl like she was crazy. In all fairness, she probably was. A lazy shrug pulled at his shoulder. "I've never spiced 'em." He paused when Sammy gave him a look of disbelief.

"You poor soul," she joked quietly. "Just 'cause the world's gone to shit doesn't mean we should have to completely sacrifice the culinary arts. Sou-chef! Spices!" And, with that, Peter started handing her spices. She threw a few back at the man whenever he handed her one that displeased her, but, eventually, the first squirrel was covered in spices. Sammy dug its stick into the ground near the fire to let it cook, watching with hard eyes.

"Gotta put it closer to the fire if you want it to cook," Daryl said, going to reach for the piece of meat.

Sammy's hand on his arm stopped him though. The girl couldn't help the blush that spread over her cheeks as she felt the man's bare skin, muscles tensing beneath her touch. "No," she said, her voice quiet now. She dropped her hand and glanced up at the man, a small smile pulling at her lips. "Let it cook slowly. It'll taste better. I'm in no hurry, are you?"

Daryl stared at the girl with a question in his eyes. Her transition so quickly from loud and energetic to quiet and calm almost threw him off, but he just sat back and shrugged, averting his gaze. "Guess not," was his simple answer. He was fairly hungry, his last mean having been an early lunch before he went out hunting. But he could wait a little longer. The pure joy that seemed to radiate from the girl made dealing with the gnaw of hunger for a little longer worth it. And, he had the s'mores to tide him over.

"So, how many squirrels can I have?" Sammy asked suddenly, smiling brightly at the country man.

Daryl glanced at her before his eyes drifted downward to the small game he had left. There wasn't much; only four squirrels were left on the string. The community wouldn't miss such a small contribution. His eyes drifted over to the bag of marshmallows; the girl hadn't bothered counting them, the white balls of fluff easily outnumbering the squirrels passed the 3:1 ratio the girl had offered. So, when Daryl handed the girl the string of squirrels, Sammy looked ecstatic.

"Really, you're giving me all of them?" she asked, surprise in her voice. She only got a nod in response, but Daryl's lack of enthusiasm did nothing to damper Sammy's. Quickly, she got to work skinning the creatures, and each of them had their own variety of spices as they cooked by the fire.

It wasn't long before the remainder of the group shrank. People started leaving, some going to find other things to do with their time now that things had died down, and others turning in for the night. Soon, only four members remained; Sammy, Peter, Daryl and Michonne.

Peter soon stood, a hand on the girl's shoulder as he stretched out his legs, trying to return the circulation to normal after having sat for so long. "I'm going to take a walk," he announced, more for Sammy's benefit than anyone else's.

"Okay," Sammy answered, sounding a little skeptical at the idea of letting her friend wonder around alone. She had to remind herself that the boy had survived as long as he did without her, and he could handle any trouble that might come up inside the community walls. She smiled up at Peter. "Want me to save you a squirrel?"

"If you can," the blond answered with a smile. "I want the Greek one." His words were teasing, and they drew a playful glare from the girl.

"You get nothing, you uncultured swine." The insult left her mouth so easily, she neglected to remember that Greek food was usually considered a more cultured person's kind of food.

"Then I guess I starve," the boy said dramatically, his smile just widening.

"I'll give you the spiciest one, that way you can suffer all through the digestive process!" She called the threat out, the banter ending when Peter just laughed and walked away.

Sammy laughed as she turned back to the fire. Her smile only faltered slightly when she realized the country man staring at her. She turned to him with curious eyes. "Can I help you?" she asked after a moment of silence. Typically, she would have asked the question with a good amount of sarcasm to someone staring at her, but she found herself genuinely curious as to why the man was watching her so intently.

Daryl just shook his head slowly, turning away. "I can't figure out if you're actually as happy as you let on, or if you're just crazy," the man muttered, a low chuckle on his lips.

Sammy laughed quietly, turning her eyes to the fire as she adjusted the food so it would cook evenly. "Well, I've always been a little crazy. So I think it's a little of both." She flashed the man a playful smile, though it softened slightly after he scoffed quietly. "But, who isn't crazy now a'days?"

Silence followed her quiet question, and the girl just focused on the food in front of her. When she decided it was sufficiently cooked, she handed the first squirrel to Daryl. His surprised look just made her smile widen, but he took it without a word. Another squirrel went to Michonne, the woman looking equal surprised when Sammy handed off the food to her. As she sat back down, Sammy grabbed one for herself, taking a bite and enjoying the food.

The other two waited until Sammy took her first bite before they ate; one could never be too cautious about being poisoned by a stranger. When Daryl took a bite of his food, his mouth salivated. He never would have guessed that a squirrel could taste so good; it had to have been the best thing he had eaten, since Aaron's spaghetti at least. As soon as the meat met his taste buds, he couldn't suppress the moan that rumbled in his throat.

Sammy's heart fluttered at the noise, staring at Daryl as she did her best to reign in her perverted thoughts. She covered it up with amusement, a quiet laugh left her lips. "I take it you like it?" she questioned.

"It's good," he answered shortly as he continued scarfing down the food. When he finished, Sammy handed him a second one. She was sure that the man was hungry, having spent most of the day burning energy outside the community.

Daryl looked hesitant about taking another. "Indulge yourself," he repeated his words from earlier, his eyes meeting hers. Sammy's breath caught in her throat as she stared into his eyes. His stormy, blue eyes that clashed with red as the flames danced in them. She found it difficult to tear her gaze away, a quiet laugh on her lips as she did so.

"I think four s'mores and a squirrel is more than enough for me," she answered, trying to bury down the burning embarrassment she felt. They were just eyes, they shouldn't make her heart beat the way they did. "I've got a small stomach now, I'm not used to so much food at one time."

Daryl scoffed, an insult slipping out as he took the offered food. "Pussy," he muttered, then froze. He hadn't meant for the word to come out, being more of force of habit than anything. He pressed his lips together and paused at the short-lived silence that followed.

"Why, yes, I do have a pussy!" Sammy yelled at the man, the faux offended look clear on her face. "Thank you for noticing, sir!" The words came out much louder than she had intended; a fact which the girl realized after she had said them. What a thing to yell at a perfect stranger.

Daryl's choked laughs were drowned out as Michonne loudly cleared her throat. The woman stood up, looking slightly put off by the odd situation she found herself in. "Well, I think I should turn in for the day," the woman announced. She looked at Sammy, the girl's cheeks burning in embarrassment when the brown eyes locked onto her. Michonne gave something between a grimace and a smile. "Thank you for the meal." Sammy nodded in reply, watching as the woman walked away.

"Well, that was awkward," Sammy muttered as the girl walked out of ear-shot. Her comment made another fit of laughter bubble up from the country man beside her, despite his best efforts to keep them down. She grinned at the man like she was proud of herself, and Daryl just shook his head at her.

"You're crazy," he stated, mirth still in his voice even after his laughter subsided.

"Don't I know it," Sammy whispered, continuing her dinner as the man scarfed down his second squirrel.

A long silence followed as the two ate. It was broken by Daryl, after the man finished his second squirrel and threw the remains into the fire. "Spiders," the country man said, earning a questioning look from Sammy. "Dumb shit I was afraid of, before all this." Sammy's eyes shone as he elaborated. "Guess I've always hated shit that could kill you with one bite."

"Not irrational," Sammy assured the man. "There are a lot of poisonous species. But, fun fact, most things like that, that so many people are afraid of; spiders, sharks, snakes, and so on. None of them actively seek humans as prey, and they are, usually, more afraid of you than you are of them."

"So better than the walkers?" Daryl mused, a slight scoff in his tone.

"Yeah," Sammy agreed quietly as her eyes returned to the dying flames. "Better than the walkers." Silence fell once more, the girl mulling over her next words before she spoke again. "My, uh..." Sammy cleared her throat as her voice cracked ever so slightly. The subject was a difficult one for her. "My older brother... he was terrified of spiders." A quiet chuckle left the girl's lips, but it held more sadness than humor. Daryl didn't have to ask to know she had lost him with the way she spoke. "He always tried to act so tough and manly, but if he so much as spotted a little a spider on the wall through the corner of his eye, he'd dart out of the room so fast, you'd think someone had lit a fire under him."

Daryl chuckled at that. "Smart guy," the country man muttered, getting a quiet laugh and nod of agreement from the girl. "You two close?" The question was quiet and a little unsure. Daryl himself hadn't talked much about his own brother since he had passed. The man may have been an ass, but even so, Merle always had - and always will - hold a special place in his heart.

"We were practically connected at the hip until he moved out," Sammy answered, a fondness in her voice. "I love him and I miss the hell outta him, but..." The girl glanced down to the half-eaten squirrel in her hands, twirling the stick absently. "Shit, we were like polar opposites. Once he left home... well, he never really had much of a reason to come back..." A smile pulled at the girl's lips, but the look of betrayal was clear from where the country man watched on. Maybe she wasn't exactly the snooty little rich girl he thought her to be in the previous world. Not that it mattered anymore.

"My brother, Merle," Daryl licked at his lips, his mouth suddenly dry at the mention of the name, "we were close, too. The man practically raised me; stuck by him through thick an' thin. Always me 'n Merle against the world, y'know?" A scoff left the man's lips as they drew into a tight line. "Stupid, I know."

"No, it's not," Sammy retorted. Her voice was quiet, but the look she gave him told the man she understood exactly what he was saying. She pulled her knees up against her chest, looking up at him with big, doe eyes.

"You didn't know Merle," Daryl laughed bitterly, averting his eyes. "Man was an ass... didn't care 'bout no one but himself. Went an' got himself killed by a hoard of walkers, the idiot." He was still angry with the man for leaving him the way he had. Daryl knew his brother wouldn't have died like that unless he had decide to die; but damn it all, Daryl wanted the man alive. He wanted his brother to be here with him; wanted him to have changed his ways and been excepted by Daryl's new family. But he had his doubts that Merle could have ever really changed. He was too stubborn to admit when he was wrong, and he had never been good at making amends.

Sammy watched him silently as she tried to read between the man's words. "He cared about you," Sammy stated slowly, Daryl's eyes drifting to her as the words left her mouth. "Even if he was an ass, or an idiot... he stuck with you... had to mean he really loved you, even if he couldn't show it well..." A small smirk played at the girl's lips as she thought about her own sibling. "Hell, my brother couldn't even muster up a quick 'love you' without bruising the shit outta my arm. Pretty sure I've got some nerve damage," she patted her upper arm closest to the man, "can't hardly feel anything there anymore."

Daryl had to laugh at that. The sound was much less restrained than the previous laughs that had slipped through since the girl had met him. That made the smile tug easily across her face, knowing she had gotten the man to drop his guard around her, even if only a little.

"Big brothers, huh?" The words were oddly affectionate coming from the usually stoic man.

"Gotta love 'em, even when you hate 'em." The two shared another quiet laugh.

More silence followed before Daryl stood from his spot and headed home. "Good night, Daryl," Sammy called after the man, getting a wave in return as he walked away. Sammy stayed for a little longer, staring silently at the burning embers. She ran her fingers through her hair, the long, curly, dirty blonde locks tangling around the appendages. She gathered up as much as she could in one hand before unsheathing her sword. The blade easily sliced through the strands, and Sammy threw the mass of hair into the remains of the fire, along with her squirrel's carcass, and buried the small pit back under the dirt.

Sammy felt the shortened locks of hair again, her head feeling lighter without the extra weight. It probably looked terrible, but she could probably convince someone to fix it for her later. With that thought in mind, she sheathed her sword, grabbed the last squirrel and headed home for the night.


	25. Chapter 25

**Woot! I have internet back! For now... But I also got a new job! $8.50 and hour, birches; I start on Monday! So, maybe I'll be able to afford everything necessary for survival _and_ keep the internet~! No more minimum wage for me, _whoop whoop_ ~! (Even if the job itself isn't necessarily better than what I currently have, at least it's not slave-labor wages for busting my ass all day/night :'D ) So, wish me luck at my new job! :DD**

 **And enjoy the story~!**

* * *

 _Chapter twenty-five: Children_

 _Children shouldn't have to live in this world. Too much violence and betrayal. But there were already children thrown into this chaos, born before any of this started. Unlucky souls, forced to grow up in in a world full of monsters. So, if you find a kid out there that's still alive, be nice to them. Let them see that not everything is complete shit._

* * *

Sammy hummed quietly as she sat on her front porch, treating her sword. She lifted the object, examining the blade and grinning when she saw her reflection on the freshly-cleaned metal. She stood and gave the item a few swings, a smile adorning her face. It had been much too long since she had given the blade a proper cleaning, and she was happy to have it at its best again.

"I told you she had a sword," a boy whispered excitedly, causing Sammy's movement to falter. She stopped and looked down, seeing the awed gaze from the two boys staring up at her from the lawn. They looked to be in their early teens; the oldest couldn't be over fifteen.

"Uh, hi," she greeted. The discomfort that came off her in waves went unnoticed by the younger two. Sammy had never been good with children. She had never really fully matured, in a lot of ways, and a lot of people seemed to think that her childish demeanor made her great with children; but nothing could be further from the truth. And, being the youngest of three siblings, she had very little experience throughout her life with people significantly younger than her.

"Can we play with your sword?" the older boy asked. His green eyes shone with curiosity, and Sammy detected a hint of mischief. Upon closer inspection, she recognized the boy; she had seen him around the community a few times, and he had been at their psuedo s'mores bonfire event. He had seemed like a nice enough kid, if not a little over-eager. Regardless, she allowed very few to even touch her precious weapon.

"It's not a toy," the younger one scolded, looking at his friend like the boy was an idiot. This boy was thin and frail looking, with a pale complexion, chestnut hair and pretty, pale blue eyes. He adorned a cowboy hat on top of his head.

"He's right," Sammy agreed with a nod. "It's a weapon. Purely for self defense."

"So, can we use it?" The boy repeated with a roll of his eyes and a hopeful smile.

"No, your parents would probably kill me if I let you," Sammy answered, looking away thoughtfully. When her gaze returned to the boys, the older one was looking back at her with sad eyes. The expression made the girl uncomfortable, but what really got her was the look of disappointment that barely reached the younger boy's eyes. Like he was so used to disappointment that this insignificant matter didn't even phase him. "What's your name?"

"I'm Nathan," the older boy answered. "And this is Carl."

Sammy nodded, offering the boys as bright a smile as she could muster. "My name is Sammy. If you guys really wanna learn how to sword fight, wait here," she ordered as she walked away. The boys stared after her questioningly, but neither moved from their spot on her front yard as she rushed off.

"I'll just be a minute," Sammy called to the person manning the gate as she opened the barrier and slipped through. He gave a curt nod as she left, quick to disappear behind the thicket of trees as the metal barricade closed behind her. She walked quietly through the debris of twigs and dying leaves. The air was still warm and humid, but every now and again, a cool breeze would blow and chill her exposed skin. Autumn would be upon them before long.

As she walked, Sammy scanned the ground around her for the item she was searching for. Twigs and sticks of many shapes and sizes were scattered about, but none of them were suitable for the perfectionist inside the girl. She glanced up at the branches overhead, entertaining the idea of cutting down a fresh branch. Her sword was sharp enough to cut through a zombie skull, so why not a piece of wood?

Carefully, the girl found her footing on the trunk of a tree, having to pull herself up before climbing into the tall branches. She stayed on a lower branch as she scanned overhead. With a smile and her sights locked on to her target, she stood carefully and impaled her sword through the branch. It only went half way through, and Sammy grunted in frustration as she unwedged it from the wood. She tried again, the branch groaning in protest as it leaned down, barely hanging on. Sammy smiled at the victory as she managed to rip the rest off, tossing it down to hit the dirt below.

She climbed up a little ways more, another perfect branch in sight. She swung, the sword cutting through it in one swipe this time. The unexpected lack of resistance caused the girl to fumble, clinging to a branch in front of her. A crack sounded, the frail item in her grasp breaking under the weight, and she went tumbling down to the earth below.

Sammy squeezed her eyes shut as she waited for the inevitable blow from the ground below her, but it wasn't nearly as bad as she had imagined. She heard a grunt, warm breath hitting her face, and she peeked an eye open. She was met with the glare of stormy blue eyes, lips in a tight line and brows drawn together on the rugged man's face. Daryl had saved her from what would have surely been a painful landing. Sammy let out a quiet sigh, the breath knocked out of her in a different way than she was prepared for.

"You're heavy," were the first words out of Daryl's mouth. Sammy's eyes shot up, a glare locking onto the man. Her first instinct to be angry at the words.

"You stupid son of a..." She let out another breath as the man's jaw tightened. A grin spread over her face, and she couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up inside her. "Well, at least I know I'm not fat."

Daryl just looked confused as he set Sammy back on her feet, the girl still giggling oddly as she stood. "The hell are you laughing at?"

Sammy shook her head, covering her mouth. "You," she stated, mirth in her eyes as she stared up at the man. "You're funny."

"Says the girl goofin' around an' climbing trees in the middle of the apocalypse," Daryl drawled out, looking more offended by the words from _her_ than the actual words in general. "The hell were you doin' up there? Coulda' gotten yourself killed."

Sammy's smile faded, a blush adorning her face as she looked away from the man. "Oh, uh... Nothing, really." She glanced up into the tree, seeing the last branch she cut stuck among the others. "Hey, can you give me a boost, Daryl?"

Daryl didn't answer right away, and Sammy missed the odd look that he gave her. Like she was completely insane. "There's easier ways to collect firewood."

"I'm not collecting firewood," Sammy answered, eyebrows raising as she looked at the man again. "You gonna give me a boost or do I have to climb up there again?"

Daryl let a scoff out, picking up the crossbow that he had dropped on the ground in favor of catching the girl earlier. As he adjusted the item over his shoulder, Sammy huffed and started to climb the tree once more, figuring that his silence was a "no". When she felt strong arms wrap around her legs, she let out a quiet noise of surprise. She was lifted up, practically sitting on the country man's shoulders as he gave her a boost. A grin spread across her reddening cheeks as she reached up, unlodging the item for the tree. When she was back on her feet once more, she gave the man a blindingly bright smile.

"Thanks, Daryl," she said happily, picking up the other stick on the ground and heading back to camp.

Daryl stared after her strangely, following at a distance. He was curios as to what she was doing, but it was obvious she wasn't going to answer his questions. She didn't seem to notice his presence as she slipped back through the gates and into Alexandria.

When Sammy returned to her house, she only saw Carl. He had opted to sit on her porch as he waited, looking terribly bored. Sammy frowned slightly.

"Where's that other kid?" Sammy questioned, looking around to make sure she hadn't accidentally overlooked him.

"Nathan left," he replied, pursing his lips together as he watched the woman in front of him. "Whatcha got there?"

Her frown deepened. He left? After all the trouble Sammy had gone to in order to get the perfect branches. What a jerk! Sammy let out a sigh, and let go of the thought; it wouldn't do to dwell on the negative. She gave Carl a winning smile as she held the branches up proudly.

"These, here, are the perfect weapons!" Sammy exclaimed, a grin on her face. She held out one of the sticks to the boy. "Carl, right? Wanna learn how to sword fight?" Carl looked at the stick in disappointment. "Safety first. When you can use this, then I'll let you play with my sword." She grinned, and the boy let a small smile pull at his lips as he took the stick.

"So, if I show you how awesome I am with a sword, you'll let me use yours?" There was a slight cockiness to his tone that drew a laugh from Sammy.

"Sure, but you've gotta play sword fight with me for a little while first."

It was Carl's turn to laugh. Sammy tapped her second stick against Carl's, a childish grin pulling at her lips. "En garde!" she called out, hopping back as Carl got up and took a swing at her. The sounds of laughter and wood clashing against wood filled the air as the two fought valiantly.

"The joke's on you," Carl laughed out as he continued swinging at Sammy. His moves were sloppy and untrained, though surprisingly strong for how small the boy was. "My friend has a sword. I picked up a few tricks from her."

Sammy chuckled at the boy. "Young padawan, it takes more than just observation to master the art of sword play," Sammy stated, somehow sounding somber and joking at the same time. She easily blocked his attacks with her own branch, the ricochet causing for a fluid, wild fight. It was a strange sort of exhilarating to the girl; she was having fun for the first time in a long time. After having to _survive_ for so long, she found herself just enjoying life. It was nice.

"You shouldn't use all your strength at once," Sammy suggested, a smile pulling her lips upward. "You'll tire out faster; I know you're young and energetic, but it makes your movements sloppy and predictable."

Carl grunted angrily at the instructions from the girl. He ignored her, continuing his wild swings. He was tired of people underestimating him because of his age, and he focused that anger toward his attacks. Sammy noticed the sudden change in demeanor, her smile slipping as she continued to defend herself from the blows.

"If you want to win a fight against someone bigger and stronger than you, use their movements to your advantage." She knocked his sword aside as he tried to rush at her, stepping aside just enough for the boy to stumble forward with his own momentum. Sammy couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips when the boy face-planted in the grass.

"Ow!" Carl yelled out when his face made contact with the ground. He pushed himself up slightly, wiping the foliage and dirt off of his face. He grunted in pain, quickly erasing the older woman's smile.

"Oh, shit," Sammy mumbled as she realized that he may have actually hurt himself. She rushed up to him, kneeling beside him. "You okay, kid?"

Her concern was met with a stick being jabbed into her forehead. She fell back, a dazed look on her face as she hit the ground.

"Gotcha!" Carl called out with laughter in his voice. He stood over Sammy, his grin fading when she didn't respond. "Sammy? You okay?" He looked on in concern.

"Ow," the girl grumbled as she sat up, rubbing the red bump forming on her head. "While headshots are a great strategy to use on the Walkers, no hitting the face or head area during practice."

A low laugh rumbled from nearby, and both the child and the over-grown child's heads shot up at the sound. Daryl stood, leaning against the side of Sammy's porch as he watched on in amusement. Sammy blushed, but Carl just chuckled along with the man.

"Sorry," Carl said, the mirth returning to his voice as he turned back to the girl.

"Well, good game, kid." Sammy gave the boy a crooked grin. "I think we're done for today."

Carl frowned. "What? That wasn't long enough!" He pouted at the woman as she stood up, barely having to tilt his head upward to look her in the eye. "I still haven't gotten to use your sword."

"I've suffered enough blows to the head for one lifetime," Sammy muttered, a sheepish grin on her face. She glanced at Daryl, pointing her stick toward the man. Her smile turned a little wild as she looked at the man, determined to get revenge for his mean comment on her weight _and_ laughing at her getting injured. "Asked Daryl if he wants to practice with you."

"I don't do sword fightin'," Daryl muttered, crossing his arms over his chest as his amusement vanished.

"Neither did I a year ago," Sammy shot back, a challenging look in her eye to match the man's intense gaze. "Practice makes perfect." He didn't respond, a scoff leaving his lips. He shook his head as he walked away, much to the other two's disappointment.

"Well, guess he's not down to play with us," Sammy muttered. Her next words were a little louder. "Guess he's just gonna be a chicken! Afraid you'll get your ass beat by a kid and a girl?" A smirk pulled at her lips as the country man stopped.

"Sammy," Carl's voice was warning. The boy knew what kind of temper the man had. Sure, Daryl had calmed down considerably since arriving at Alexandria, but the temper was still there. And Carl had seen the man's anger first hand throughout their travels. Taunting him was a bad idea.

"No, no," Sammy shushed the boy, her teasing tone still in place. "Nothing wrong with a strategic retreat. Running away with your tail between your legs; I get it."

Daryl pivoted around, marching up to the girl. He set his crossbow down against the porch, holding his hand out to Carl as his eyes locked onto Sammy. "Gimme that stick, Carl."

Carl didn't look to sure about the situation. Sammy, on the other hand, was practically jumping for joy. "Come at me, chicken."

The next fight was much less playful than the first. The two circled each other, sticks at the ready. Both held the eyes of a predator, watching the other carefully for the first sign of movement. Daryl attacked first, his branch clashing against Sammy's. The look in the girl's eyes changed, suddenly unsure about the fight as her hands stung from the force of the blow. Too late now. More clashes of wood rang out as the two fought. It didn't take long before Daryl gained the upper hand. His blows got more wild and powerful as he pushed the girl back. Sammy was barely able to block the blows now, splinters digging into her hands.

"Daryl." She barely got the word out as she dodged one of the man's swings. Another swing, she blocked it. She could feel the crack in her stick. The man didn't seem to notice, a smirk on his face. "Daryl, stop."

"What, you gonna retreat?" His voice was teasing, but it held a dangerous undertone to it. "I thought you were tough shit, girl. C'mon, show me what you got!"

"No, I," she blocked another blow. She heard the crack this time. Fear etched itself on her face, sweat dripping down her brow. "Daryl, stop!"

Too late, Daryl noticed the fear. His stick clashed against hers as she blocked his final blow. It wasn't as strong as his previous attacks, but it still managed to shatter the item in half. Daryl's stick slammed into Sammy's side, and the girl went down with a grunt of pain.

"Shit," Daryl cursed, dropping his stick and rushing over to the girl. "Fuck! Sammy, you okay? I..." He kneeled over her, panic in his eyes. His hands hovered over her body, unsure of what to do. He didn't see blood, which was a good sign. Maybe she was just winded.

"Daryl." The words were barely a whisper from the girl, and she grabbed the man's shirt lightly. "Daryl, come closer..."

Daryl's eyes widened at her weak voice, leaning closer as she instructed. He muttered the word 'shit' a few times as he did so. "Sammy, I..." His eyes scanned her face, the apology on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't manage to push it out.

"Daryl... Tell my wife... I love her..." Sammy let out a dramatic sigh, letting her body go limp as she closed her eyes and snapped her head to the side.

Daryl watched, frozen for several seconds as he pieced together the situation. A hard glare set on his face, his jaw tightening. "Sammy..." The name was a dangerous growl on his lips, and the girl popped an eye open. She faintly heard the restrained laughter from Carl, but she dropped her facade at the look the man gave her. She turned her full attention to him, eyes wide. "You..." An animalistic growl escaped him. "You're a real asshole, you know that." The man pushed himself to his feet, glowering at the woman before stalking off to grab his weapon.

"Wait," Sammy called, pushing herself up. She grunted in pain, falling back down. "Ow... I-I was joking, but.. I really am hurt here, Daryl!" She held her side, feeling the warm liquid that seeped through. "I think you might have reopened an old wound." She grunted again, pushing herself up into a sitting position and seeing the man's back to her as he had an internal fight on whether or not to believe her this time. "C'mon, can you at least help me to the infirmary?"

A sigh left the man's lips as he turned around, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder as he made his way back. He locked an arm behind the girl's shoulders and knees, lifting her up. Sammy grunted at the rough treatment from the man, a scowl pulling at her lips.

"You don't have to manhandle me," she hissed.

"Shut up," Daryl shot back. He shot a glance at the boy, his lips drawn downward into a frown. "Go home, Carl."

"I wanna make sure she's okay," Carl answered, his gaze hard. Daryl glared, but the boy didn't back down. Instead, Carl sent back a heated glare of his own. "You're the one that hurt 'er; maybe I should take her instead."

Daryl's body went stiff, and he couldn't help but flinch when loud laughter rang in his ear. He stared at Sammy, the girl once again taking him by surprise.

"Don't be like that, Carl." Sammy patted the man holding her on the chest, a smile pulling at her lips. "He didn't mean to, I was the one that egged him on. Should have listened to your warning, but I guess I couldn't help but prod the bear." Her smile softened as she poked Daryl in the chest once, turning her gaze to the man. "Sorry, Daryl. I just thought you needed to have a little fun. I shouldn't have pushed you."

She didn't get a reply from the man. Just an odd look. But he shook his head, a hard glare returning to his face as he headed toward the infirmary with the girl in his arms. Carl, despite the country man's orders, was hot on his trail.

"You're a smart kid, Carl," Sammy mused aloud as they walked, breaking the silence between them.

"I know."

The words drew a laugh from the girl, but she winced in pain at the action. Carefully, she pressed her hand into the wound, feeling her shirt soaked through with blood now. She she took a deep breath, quietly releasing it. "Don't get a swollen head, now, kid. That shit- er, stuff. That stuff will get you killed." She shook her head lightly, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips. "Listen to me, I'm the master of getting into trouble from my ego."

"But shouldn't I be confident of my decisions?" Carl countered, raising an eyebrow at Sammy. "If I'm not, I could get killed because I hesitated."

Sammy nodded thoughtfully. "Smart kid, indeed... The trick is to find a happy medium; a balance between confident and humble. And always be honest; because lying always causes problems. But don't be too honest, because that can cause problems, too." She let out a sigh. "A perfect life consists of perfect balance between all things. Wouldn't that be nice if it were achievable?"

"Would you quit babblin'?" Daryl grumbled, picking up his pace. He could feel the blood seeping through the girls clothes now, and the man wasn't sure if she was delirious from blood loss, or if she was just weirder around children.

Carl rushed ahead to open the doors to the infirmary, sensing the man's urgency. He got a glimpse of the girl's shirt, but the blood didn't bug him as much as it had when everything started. He just pressed his lips together and watched silently as Daryl took her into the building.

"Doc," Daryl called as he set Sammy on the table. He was more careful this time around, actually worried about the girl's well being now.

The man sat in the corner of the room, a plush chair beneath him and a book in his hands. He seemed aggravated at the distraction, but said nothing as he stood up, set his book down in the chair, and headed over to the table. "What happened?" the man asked, lifting the girl's shirt to see the reopened wound.

"I was being stupid and reopened a wound," Sammy answered, a light shrug on her shoulders.

A dangerous look flashed in the doctor's eyes, but he just breathed out an irritated sigh and got to work patching her up. "You need to be more careful," the man scolded her. "We don't have the supplies to waste on people being stupid."

Sammy winced at the harsh words, averting her eyes from the blond. She missed the way that Daryl's nostrils flared at his words. "It ain't her fault," Daryl hissed out, his hardened gaze landing on the doctor. "I was the one being stupid."

Sammy gave the man a confused look. She opened her mouth to argue, but a sharp pain from her wound made it snap shut.

"It doesn't matter," the doctor hissed as he restitched the wound. "You're both stupid, how about that?" He forced the girl to sit up, Sammy complying and holding her shirt up as he wrapped the wound.

This time, she noticed the dangerous look in Daryl's eye. She sent a grin at the man, doing her best to ignore the pain at the doctor's less than gentle patch-job. "I can agree with that."

The country man's eyes met hers, and he seemed to calm down a little bit. Enough to keep his mouth shut as the doctor finished his work.

"She gonna be okay?" It was Carl that asked the question. He tried to sound nonchalant about it, but the worry was evident in his voice.

"Of course I am," Sammy answered, flashing the boy a winning smile. "I've survived worse than this. It would be pretty pathetic if I wasn't going to be okay 'cause of a piece of wood." Another sharp pain at her side made her inhale sharply. She shot the doctor a glare. The prod on her wound was intentional that time, and she almost slapped the man for it.

"Be more careful from now on," the doctor ordered sternly. "No strenuous activity until this wound has healed. I better not have to patch you up again."

"Aye, aye, doc," the girl answered, a somber look on her face as she mock saluted the man.

"I'm serious." The doctor was practically seething at her now.

Sammy blinked, surprised at the tone. "So am I," she replied, her brows drawing together.

The doctor just shook his head in response, heading back over to his seat. He picked up the book before sitting down, not even glancing up at the group now. "I suggest you stay on bed rest for a while."

Sammy huffed in reply, but was surprised when she was lifted off the bed by the country man once more. "Hey, I can walk," Sammy told the man, her voice wavering uneasily as he made his way out of the building and back to her own house.

"He said bed rest," Daryl grumbled. "Ya ain't supposed to be walking around."

Sammy shook her head, giving the man an amused smile. "Hold on a second would you?" At his questioning glance, she turned her gaze to Carl. Daryl seemed to understand, stopping to let the boy catch up to them. "Hey, Carl." The boy's baby blue eyes drifted up to meet her. "You're one hell of a sword fighter. Keep up the good work. I'll find another stick once I'm feeling better, and we can practice some more." She reached out, managing to rub the boy's hat against his head.

"Hey, stop it," Carl whined, a laugh on his lips as he moved out of her reach. "I'll hold you to it." He gave her a cocky smile, and Sammy couldn't help but beam down at him in return.

"I'm counting on it, kid. Now, kindly get lost. I apparently have a lot of nothing to do."

Another smile pulled at the boy's lips, but he nodded in response. "Yeah, have fun on bed rest," he teased. Sammy stuck her tongue out at him as he left. "Hope you feel better soon, Sammy," Carl called as he walked away.

"I will, and I'm looking forward to our rematch!" Sammy called after him. "Later, Carl!"

Daryl shook his head at the girl as she waved to Carl, continuing toward her house. "You really gonna risk killing yourself so you can play with sticks again?" the man scoffed.

"I figured that as long as I tag along with you, nothing too bad can happen," Sammy answered. Daryl tensed slightly at the smile she gave him; it was much too kind, he wasn't sure how to respond. "I mean, how many times have you saved my ass now?"

"Too many," Daryl answered gruffly, glancing away from the girl's face as his mind drifted back to when he had first found her. He was almost certain she was dead; there was so much blood, and she didn't budge from where she lie on the ground. The fact that she had survived seemed like a miracle to the man. "But you can't always count on me to save your dumb ass."

Sammy laughed quietly. "Don't worry, I won't." She patted his chest, the gesture strangely affectionate to the man. She looked away bashfully now. "Despite what you've seen, I _am_ capable of taking care of myself."

"I'll believe it when I see it, Darlin'."

Blood rushed to Sammy's face, the girl still not used to the nickname that the man had decided to give her. She cleared her throat quietly and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, I guess I'll just have to show you one of these days." The girl struggled slightly in the man's grasp as he ascended the stairs on her porch. "I can walk the rest of the way, thank you."

The man ignored her, pushing his way into the building with slight difficulty. "Which bedroom you want?" he questioned gruffly. Sammy gave in with a sigh, pointing to the closest door on the right. She was just grateful that no one else was home to see her being carried around like an invalid. Daryl didn't say a word as he went into the bedroom, setting Sammy down carefully on the bed.

After he had set her down, Sammy expected the man to make a speedy exit. Instead, Daryl stared over her bed. His lips were drawn into a tight line, and there was an odd look in his eye. Sammy glanced away. "Let it out," the girl sighed, waiting for the man to yell at her and let her know how stupid she was.

"Sorry," Daryl said, earning a surprised look from the girl. "For hurtin' you."

Sammy stared up at him, her eyes calculating. A gentle smile pulled at her lips when the man started to shuffle nervously under her gaze. "I'm used to it." Her lips pulled into a tight line as she thought over the words. "Not you hurting me, I mean getting hurt in general. Not that I'm incompetent or anything. I just seem to be really unlucky when it comes to stuff like that. Falling out of trees, bumping my head, tripping over my feet." She flushed, embarrassed as she tried to get her train of thought away from how klutzy she was. She cleared her throat, her smile returning as her eyes landed on the man. "Thanks," she decided on finally, "for helping me out."

Daryl couldn't help the small smile that pulled at his lips. She sure seemed to be good at sticking her foot in her mouth. He gave the girl a quick nod, acknowledging her thanks, before pivoting around and leaving her house.

"See ya, Daryl," Sammy called out. Daryl turned to look over his shoulder at the smiling girl. He lifted his hand in response before continuing onward.

* * *

 _You don't have to be an expert with children to make an impact in their life. One nice gesture can make a big difference. So always be nice to the kids surviving out there. They're the future. They're the hope that we have for the world. They'll decide if the human race survives, or dwindles into nothing._

* * *

 **Ehehe... This chapter turned out to be more about _Daryl_ than children e Oh well, I'm sure none of you are complaining ;P Got a lil bit of time to see a sort of bond forming between Carl and Sammy. I feel for the little Grimes; he had to grow up way too fast and I (and Sammy) can sympathize with that. So, I think he deserves a little stupid, childish fun in his life. Between Michonne and Sammy, he's got a chance yet. :P  
**

 **Yep, Sammy is absolutely _terrible_ around children. Children and the elderly; she tries too hard to be less offensive and more wise, and she just comes off as awkward, haha. Ah, I love her~  
**

 **Anyway, stay tuned for more _SGTZA_ ~! Should be continuing my Sunday updates, but we'll see what happens with my new job's schedule...  
**


	26. Chapter 26

**OH MY GLOB, THIS IS A DAY LATE, I'M SO SORRY ASFADFADFHG! Totally spaced out that yesterday was Sunday, and the free time I did have I was pretty tired. Sorry it's late~ :'D**

 **Anyway, I won't keep you lovely peeps any longer. Enjoy the story~!**

* * *

 _Chapter twenty-six: Evolving_

 _We never really stop growing, as people. Our minds expand infinitely inwards, so there's plenty of room for us to evolve. Everything around you has the potential to impact your life; experiences, people you meet, a butterfly landing in China; everything._

* * *

Sammy held the hilt of her sheathed sword as she walked with Daryl through the forest surrounding the settlement. She had decided to join the man in his morning hunt, after running into him on his way out; he didn't seem terribly excited about the girl joining him, but Sammy took his lack of objection as permission. The girl pressed her lips together as she looked around, surprised how easily she could slip into comfort while outside. She had been begrudgingly stuck on bed rest for the passed few days; between Peter and Daniel, she hadn't been able to leave her bed for anything more than the necessary emptying of her bladder. It was stifling, to say the least, and she was happy to be out in the open again.

"I almost forgot what it's like out here," Sammy said quietly, the country man humming in reply.

"Then you get weak. Let your guard down..." Daryl pointed his crossbow, taking out a stray walker that was getting too close for his comfort. "Get killed." He pulled the bolt out of the creatures head and promptly reloaded his weapon.

"Maybe," Sammy agreed with a bitter laugh, watching the man's back as he bent over to retrieve the ammo. Maybe a little more literally than she had intended, she realized after a moment. She pried her eyes from him and glanced around the area once more. "So, did you hunt before all this?"

"Still do," was Daryl's short reply, giving the girl a quick glance as he put the weapon back over his shoulder and continued walking.

"That's cool.. You seem like the type who likes things like that." She pressed her lips together as she saw his movement falter slightly, but there was no other indication that he had heard her. "I don't mean that in a 'you look like a creepy killer' way, because you don't. I just meant... You know, manly-man type... hunter..."

Daryl held up a hand to silence the girl, and Sammy snapped her mouth shut without question. The two fell into a low sneak as Daryl led the way, his crossbow at the ready. She heard the click as he pulled the trigger, the whizz of the arrow as it sped through the air, and the thud as it hit its mark.

Sammy let her eyes stray to the man beside her, watching him in awe. The large muscles on his arms tensed and relaxed with every movement he made, captivating her attention like a dancing flame. His face was covered in a sheen coat of sweat with a few smudges of dirt already blemishing his face, his skin seeming to glow in the morning light that filtered through the trees. He turned to her, sniffing quietly and wiping the tip of his nose, and her face grew warm at the intense look in his dark eyes. Sammy glanced away briefly. No, she wouldn't look away. Not anymore. She returning her gaze to the man, a fire burning beneath her eyes. She wouldn't let him see how much she was intimidated by him, how much he _distracted_ her.

"Teach me how to hunt." She demanded, but her eyes soon turned pleading and her voice softened as she added, "Please..."

Daryl pressed his lips together as his resolve caved. He knew the second those golden eyes stared him down he would have said yes to just about anything the girl had asked of him. All she wanted was to learn a useful skill from him, though; it seemed like a reasonable enough request. He let out a hum as he stood and continued on, and the girl took it as confirmation.

Sammy was right behind him, smiling brightly. "Thank you, Mr. Dixon," she said sweetly.

Daryl turned to look at the girl as he pulled the arrow out of the rabbit, surprised. He narrowed his eyes at her, suspicion creeping in. "How you know my last name?" His voice held an edge of venom to it, his weapon ready to be used at a moment's notice.

"Oh, I heard it in passing," the girl replied, holding her hands up in a non threatening manner. "That older lady, Carol? I think she said something along the lines of, 'That damn Daryl Dixon,' as you were walking away. In a very loving tone, though. Then she saw me standing nearby and kindly told me to fuck off." Sammy laughed quietly at the memory. "Carol's quite the spitfire passed her sweet old lady facade. I think I like her." She nodded decisively. She could respect the woman, playing into her perceived weakness. Disarm your enemy with a smile; it's what Petey would do. But Sammy could easily spot it when she looked into the woman's eyes. All of Daryl's "family", every one of them shared that dangerous edge to them. They were all survivors.

A smile pulled at Daryl's lips, his body relaxing just a little bit. Sammy smiled in return, knowing she had just gained a little bit of the man's trust. It wasn't friendship yet; nothing close to what he had with Carol and the rest of his group; but it was the first step to becoming a part of this man's "family".

"Well, do me a favor, Darlin'," the man drawled, his smirk widening a bit at the way the girls cheeks went red at the nickname he had picked. "Don't call me Dixon. Or mister. It's just Daryl." He handed her the dead animal, their fingers brushing briefly as she took it without hesitation. Sammy stared up at him, her smile soft and her eyes widened sightly, as though trying to take more of the man in.

"Can I call you 'Dare'?" Her question caught him off guard, and he paused as he felt the heat traveling up his neck.

"Jus' Daryl," he mumbled out, his tone not leaving room for argument as he walked away. Sammy pursed her lips and followed after him.

"Okay, guess I came on a bit strong there," the girl said sheepishly. "I just know that you're a good person, and I hope you can see that I am, too. I'd like to be your friend, because I think that good people should stick together whenever they're lucky enough to meet." Her voice had softened considerably as she spoke this time. Daryl spared her a glance. Her sincerity surprised him; it was a tone he hadn't heard in what felt like a very long time. He knew she was a good person. He could read her from the second he spotted her, and not once did he feel she was a danger to him or his group. Aside from her klutzy tendencies, perhaps. Even the friends that she traveled with seemed like decent people. And they were all survivors. Maybe they could all become friends and stick together.

"I hope," Daryl started quietly, his voice gruff as he tried to keep a stoic disposition. He wasn't good at this 'sharing your feelings' crap, but it was something he felt so strongly about that he pushed passed that barrier. Plus, the girl's words a few days prior rang in his mind. _Just say what's on your mind_. "I hope that we can all stay together." His confession made Sammy nearly swoon, the girl pausing to stare up at him with curious eyes. "I hope some stupid shit don't happen that breaks us all up."

Sammy nodded, gently touching the man's arm. She could see it all over him; he had lost too much. They both had. "Me, too," she said softly as she took a step closer to the man.

A strange silence followed. Daryl looked down at the girl, really looking at her now. Her messy brown curls were cut short and mostly hidden under the battered winter hat she seemed to regularly adorn on her outings. Her eyes were bright with an odd mixture of emerald green and golden hazel; her pupils seemed big to the country man, but he reasoned that it was just the lighting. Eventually, he tore his eyes away and cleared his throat. The odd fluttering in the pit of his stomach unsettled him, and he absently hoped that he wasn't getting sick.

"Track something, Sammy," Daryl ordered.

Sammy's eyes scanned around the area, looking uncertain. "What exactly do I look for?" She had attempted tracking small game in the past when she was traveling alone, but she never had any luck.

"You tell me," Daryl instructed, his eyes scanning around and easily picking up every leaf out of place, kicked up dirt, the small paw prints of the animal that had recently scurries through here.

"If I knew how to track, I wouldn't have asked you to fuckin' teach me," Sammy grumbled, trying to keep her temper in check. Before Daryl could reply to her snippy words, the girl carefully knelt down to look closer at something. "Is this a rabbit track?" She looked up at the man for confirmation. Daryl leaned closer and as he nodded as he saw the track.

"Which way's he going?" Daryl quizzed.

"Uh..." Sammy looked down at the track again, seeing that there was a small indent and the dirt was kicked up mostly on one side. Presuming that the dirt was kicked behind the animal, "That way." She pointed in the direction, confidence in her voice as she stood and scanned the area slowly.

"'Atta girl," Daryl praised quietly, following her as she took the lead, his crossbow at the ready. She found more tracks, and eventually, the pair found the rabbit. They both stopped, deep frowns pulling their lips downward.

Roughly ten feet away, a walker was ripping apart a rabbit. Globs of red matted the once white fur, and its guts spilled onto the ground. Sammy silently let out a breath of air, disappointed that the first thing she managed to track got killed by a zombie before she got to it.

"You did a good job," Daryl commented, seeming to feel the gloom emitting from the woman. "Ain't your fault a walker got it. It happens."

"Yeah," Sammy agreed quietly, though her mood didn't lighten as she went to unsheathe her sword. Maybe chopping its head off would make her feel a little better.

"Ever shot a crossbow?" He held the weapon out to her, and her eyes scanned over it curiously. She carefully took the item from him, probably being much more cautious than necessary. She wasn't going to risk damaging the man's favorite weapon, not caring that she may have looked silly.

"Wanna try my sword?" Sammy asked, suddenly feeling the need to return the favor. She turned her hip so the man could easily reach the item. Daryl hesitated a moment before taking the offered weapon, his hand lingering a few seconds on the handle near her waist before he slowly pulled it out. The lightweight blade felt strange in his hand. He swung it around a few times to get a feel for it.

"Ain't much of a sword," Daryl teased as Sammy lined up the shot, the zombie still oblivious to their presence. "This thing's tiny."

"It's bigger than your dick," she shot back without a thought, her first instinct being to defend her trusty weapon that had gotten her across the country. As soon as the words left her mouth, though, she wished she could stuff them back in. Her cheeks burned red and she took a breath to steady her heart. The trigger clicked quietly and, as soon as the zombie in front of them hit the floor, Daryl let the hoot of laughter bubble up from his chest. Sammy looked at him, the noise surprising her. She hadn't heard anyone laugh like that before, definitely not since the apocalypse started. It sounded so carefree and serene and _real._ Her stomach fluttered slightly.

"Well, maybe in length," the man argued as his fit of laughter died down. "But I assure you, Darlin'," Sammy's cheeks burned as she stared into the mischievous blue eyes that gave her a quick wink, "it ain't a stretch to say I'm hung."

Sammy looked almost modified at his comment. She turned away and rushed over to the walker she just killed, pulling the bolt out of its head and hoping the man didn't realize just how flustered his words made her. There she was, roughly a year into the zombie apocalypse; burnt out and filled with too much sexual tension for her liking; and now she's presented with this Adonis before her who, apparently, was packing a lot more than just a big crossbow. She had to will her heart to stop beating so quickly in her chest. She jumped sightly at the sound of a growl, turning around to see that Daryl had sliced the newcomer's head in half with her sword.

"Actually, I take it back," Daryl said with a crooked grin. "This little guy is an ass kicker."

"Small and useful," Sammy agreed as she reloaded the crossbow. She had some difficulty pulling the string back, but a smile pulled at her lips as it locked into place. "I like to think it suits me perfectly." She handed the weapon over to Daryl, but he pushed it back to her.

"Keep it, we're gonna look for more game," he stated.

"But, I'm not proficient with this weapon," Sammy sputtered, looking less than sure of the man's decision. "You should have it, in case we run into trouble or..." Her voice drifted to silence as he walked away, brushing off her concern.

"You won't get any better if you don't practice," the man reasoned as he looked around for some sign of a nearby animal. "'Sides, I'm here to save your ass if things go south."

Sammy let a small laugh slip as she followed after the man. "Alright, and I'll do the same for you if the opportunity arises."

The two glanced at each other and shared a silent smile. They continued on with their hunting for several hours. It wasn't until dusk began to set that they made the trek back home. Three squirrels and two rabbits taken as their bounty from the hunt, all strung together nicely by the country man. As they walked back toward the community, a few stray walkers picked up the scent of the freshly spilled blood. There were three so far that had conjoined into one small group behind them, and Sammy glanced over her shoulder briefly before turning around to face them. She kept pace with the country man, even as she walked backward, and held the string of squirrels she was carrying out to him.

"Cover me and I'll take them out?" Sammy suggested, her eyes not leaving the undead stalkers. Daryl took them, and that was all the approval she needed. She pulled her sword out quickly, having traded weapons again with the country man when they neared the end of their hunt, and went to dispatch the group. Daryl held his bow in one hand while the other held their future dinner, opting to only use the bolts if he thought she needed his help. Watching the girl work, he saw Sammy easily take out two zombies in one swing, their heads cleanly cut through. As she went to stab the last one through the eye, Daryl's attention was stolen away by a growl from his left. He turned quickly, but the creature was on him so fast that he didn't have time to fire. It grabbed at his crossbow and fought to bite into his arm.

"Shit!" the man cursed, dropping their hunt in the process of fighting the creature off.

"Daryl!" Sammy called going to help the man. She plunged her blade into its skull, and Daryl shoved the limp body away.

Daryl breathed out a sigh of relief. Another growl sounded out from nearby, and neither wanted to stick around to meet with it after the close call. They made a dash to the community, Sammy falling behind as she stopped to grab their game from its spot on the ground. The gate was in sight now as the thicket of trees thinned out around them. They were in the clear; or so the they thought.

Sammy saw the Walker first as it emerged from the trees, stumbling a bit but moving faster than she had remembered them moving. It saw her, letting out a snarl before heading her way. _Running_ her way.

"Holy shit," she cursed, going full speed now as the creature behind her slowly accelerated. She saw Daryl at the gates, pulling them open quickly and motioning for her to hurry as he scurried to load his crossbow. And hurry, she did. She reached passed the gates, turning with her sword at the ready but losing her balance as she turned and falling on her ass. Daryl pushed the gate closed just in time for the walker - the _r_ _unner_ \- to slam into it. The country man was breathing hard as he locked the gate, being careful of the nails on the zombie that swung desperately at him.

"It ran," Sammy stated, her eyes nearly bugging out of her skull. The fastest she had ever seen one of those things move was a leisurely pace of a power walking sixty-year-old woman. And that was the pace of the less rotted and torn up ones. Absently, she held the handle of her sword out to Daryl. The man took the weapon, stabbing it through the undead skull. The creature stopped moving as soon as the blade pierced its brain, hanging limply now against the gate.

A few people had gathered around at that point, drawn in by all the noise. Rick and Michonne approached, trying to keep the residents calm. Peter broke from the crowd and made a B-line for Sammy, his brows drawn together in worry as he saw his friend on the ground.

"What happened?" Rick asked quietly as he got closer. He looked at Daryl, the two intense gazes locking on to each other and seeming to communicate something silently between them.

"It ran," Daryl explained breathlessly.

"What?" Rick said, a mix of surprise and disbelief in his voice. "What? You're sure it was running?"

"Full fuckin' sprint." Daryl confirmed, rubbing his chin in worry. "It was going almost as fast as Sammy, and that girl's fast..."

Silence fell between the two, and Sammy let the blond boy help her back onto her feet. She walked closer to the two country men, grabbing her sword as she passed Daryl, and taking a closer look at the creature. It looked the same as any other zombie, but somehow different at the same time.

"Guys?" She knew what was happening. They all probably did, but no one even wanted to think it. She turned back to the others, fear showing in her eyes. Her gaze swept over Rick's face before landing on Daryl's. "Do you think they might be..." She didn't want to say it. She didn't want to believe that's what it was. It was just one-time fluke. It had to be. "Do you think they're evolving?"

* * *

 _I just hope that the human race can evolve faster than the predators that hunt us._

* * *

 **Hehe... Yep, I'm totally going to add evolution~ I think the time length is about right at this point in the show for the zombie to be showing signs of evolution. It'll start out small, and probably won't develop too fast (because evolution takes a few generations to actually make significant changes!), but I think season 5/6 got a little boring with the _speed-walking-granny-zombie_ pace. They rely too much on interpersonal relationships in TWD, and don't focus enough on the zombies, imo... So, I'm spicing it up! \e0e/**


	27. Chapter 27

**Short update is short. Sorry about that :'D I promise that next week will make it worth it~! x3**

* * *

 _Chapter twenty-seven: Evolution Pt 2_

* * *

"It's not too far fetched to say it's possible," Peter threw in his two cents. He was sitting on the couch in Deanna's living room, the woman and her husband sitting beside him while Daryl, Rick and Machonne sat in other available seats throughout the elegant room. Sammy, too nervous to sit still after the shocking discovery, was standing beside Peter, biting at her nail in worry.

Sammy remembered her biology classes from before the end of the world, the facts from what she had learned in school easily flowing back into her mind. Evolution was nothing more than just a random string of mutations passed to offspring; was it possible that the zombie virus had mutated in such a way that would allow the undead creatures to run? Was that really possible? She hadn't completely recovered from the scare the day before and, after a sleepless night, she probably shouldn't have been present for that meeting. But she would be dammed if she was going to be left out of this. "Maybe the virus is spreading more, inside the brain, and is gaining intelligence. Learning how to run. Maybe they'll start forming a language and tribes. Make their own fucking pottery and shit to eat our brains out of." She laughed bitterly, but she couldn't be more serious. The entire situation was just too surreal, but it was really happening.

Daryl scoffed quietly at the theory. "That's ridiculous," he argued. "Those zombitches are dumber than a sack of shit." His voice wavered only sightly. He couldn't think about it: the zombies becoming smarter, more _human._ It was crazy. And terrifying, even to the hard, stoic man.

Sammy had to contain her laughter at the name that Daryl gave to the creatures, and her mood suddenly felt lighter. She suddenly remembered why she kept fighting for this long, and she felt the fear slowly subside. It didn't change a whole lot, really; maybe some of the rules on how to deal with them, but not much else.

"So, if they are evolving," Rick started, leaning forward in his seat again and looking around the room with an intense gaze. "What're we supposed to do about it?" Dead silence followed. What _could_ they do about it? It's not like they could do anything to stop it.

"We keep doing what we've always done, I guess," Sammy said, her voice hesitant as she pulled her hat off and scratched at her mass of curls beneath the warm cap. "We keep surviving." Her eyes swept over the others, namely the ones that didn't start off behind giant walls before the zombies took over. Daryl's eyes widened slightly at her words, a spark of recognition in the blue depths.

No one replied to her as all eyes landed on the girl. There seemed to be a silent, unanimous agreement to her words. Sammy felt her exhaustion catching up with her; she felt the need to crawl into her warm bed and sleep for the rest of the day. The tension and fear over how to handle the new information had kept her going. Now that it was gone, she was drained. So, that's what she decided to do. She turned on her heel and walked out of the building without a word. Daryl was the first one to follow her out as the others wrapped up the meeting.

"Sammy G.," the man called out as he got closer. Sammy's heart leaped into her throat. "You're Sammy G. Right?"

Sammy turned to face the man, her head spinning as she saw him hold up her old notebook. The coarse, black cover stared back at her, and she felt like she had reunited with a dead friend. It was something she was certain she would never see again, yet there it was in front of her.

"I... I am," she stated. Her eyes went back and forth between the man and the book. "Did you read it?" She suddenly felt very self conscious of herself. The man had seen a piece of her true self that came out in her writing. She never expected to meet whoever happened to stumble upon the book. Hell, she was sure it would have been lost forever in a sea of the undead. Now, she just felt exposed and embarrassed over her ramblings in the notebook.

"Yeah," Daryl answered, looking down at the book. Her next words surprised him.

"Did you like it?"

Daryl stared at the girl before him. It wasn't the question that caught him off guard, but the way she said it. She sounded so small and fragile, and the man's chest tightened. Did he like it? He enjoyed reading through it, agreeing with a large majority of what she seemed to believe. The book was snarky and sarcastic, and it had elicited more than its fair share of laughs from the man; Aaron had gotten quite annoyed with him when they had been "scouting for new recruits", as he would randomly start laughing and then refuse to share his new gem with the other man. To say he liked it was a bit if an understatement.

"Yeah." He repeated the word with a nod. He knew his sincerity would reach the girl, even through the simple word. And, when he saw that usual spark reignite in her eyes, he knew it had.

"Well, it's yours now, do what you will with it." She nodded decisively. "Keep it, pass it on, toss it away for another person to possibly find." A smile pulled at her lips, and Daryl felt the wind get knocked out of him at how serene the girl before him looked. "Whatever you want."

She turned away again, her stride a little more confident than it was when she had left the house. Daryl looked down at the book in his hands. He ran his fingers over the cover, the calloused fingers almost matching the texture of the item. A crooked smile tugged at his lips, and he slipped the book back in his pocket. It felt odd; like a keepsake from the girl. It made his chest ache strangely, and he wasn't sure if he liked the feeling the item in his pocket gave him now. It was something he had never really felt in his life; with his family, presents and mementos and heirlooms were nonexistent. Aside from Merle's bike; which he only got because the man had all but been abandoned in Atlanta; he had never had a keepsake from anyone.

And now, Sammy had given him a piece of herself. His fingers brushed over the denim of his jeans, feeling the outline of the little book. He decided that the odd feelings invading him were pleasant; pleasant and slightly annoying, just like the girl who inspired them. He shook his head at the thought, unable to completely shake the smile off of his face with it, and headed back to his home. Rick would undoubtedly hold another meeting with their group; to inform them of the new development and likely make plans to avoid any incident. Daryl knew that the leader of their rag-tag group of survivors still didn't trust Deanna enough to have such discussions with her, though he wasn't about to question Rick's judgement after everything they had been through together.

* * *

 _No matter what happens, we only have two choices. We can either give up and die, or we can keep on fighting. Even when things seem bleak, it doesn't mean it's the end._

 _Keep on surviving._

* * *

 **Honestly, I didn't really like this chapter... But, it's a little something, at least. Look forward to next week's update, though~! I'm planning on adding some good Dare/Sammy stuffs there, so yays~ :D**

 **Until next week, chillens!**


	28. Chapter 28

**lifesuckslifesuckslifesuckslifesuckslifesucks... I wanna zombie apocalypse, society sucks, I'm so tired of it... ;w; I think this story is the only thing keeping me sane right now... Or, maybe it's making me crazy .o. Haha, okay, angst out of the way! My phone broke, which is where I do most of my writing... (I didn't lose any chapters for this story, as far as I'm aware, but I lost a lot of extras I was planning on posting in the "Drabbles with Daryl Dixon" story... le sob...). So, that happened... I'm pretty broke, but I was able to downgrade and get a cheap lil phone, which I should have by the end of the week (yey~). I still have several more chapters pre-written, so no worries on the updates! Yay~  
**

 **Hope you guys enjoy this chapter~  
**

* * *

 _Chapter twenty-eight: Tell It to the Froggies_

The sky had been dark and foreboding since morning had come. Humidity hung in the air like a thick smog, bringing the promise of rain. It was the perfect day, in the eyes of the blonde swordswoman. Sammy smiled as she headed toward the community gates, the gloomy weather only seeming to improve her mood. She pulled the cover from the gate, making sure that the coast was clear, but stopped short when a familiar voice called out to her.  
"Where you going, pipsqueak?" Daryl questioned, narrowing his eyes at the girl as he approached.  
Sammy glanced at him, unamused by his choice of nicknames for the day. "You're going with short names today?" she asked dryly, ignoring the man's question as she slipped out of the gates. She didn't get the chance to close it before he stepped out after her. "I'm not even that short," she defended, narrowing her eyes at the silent man. "I'd say average height, honestly."  
Daryl placed a hand on her head, pushing down a little harder than necessary to drive his point across. "You're shorter than me," he answered, getting a pout from Sammy. A smirk pulled at his lips. "Now, where you going? You do realize it'll be raining any second now, don't ya'?"  
"Oh, I'm counting on it," Sammy answered with a grin, all hard feelings forgotten. "What is green, warty, likes the rain, and has the cutest eyes of any creature, amphibious or otherwise?"  
"Well, I was going to guess _frogs_ before you threw in that cute part," Daryl answered dryly. The overly-dramatic gasp that left the girl's mouth had another smirk pulling at his lips. "You gonna fry up some frog legs?"  
Another gasp left the girl, and she stared at Daryl in shock. "I could never harm a poor, innocent frog!" She paused, a thoughtful look consuming her face. "Actually, I might. Much as I don't wanna hurt them, the rain usually draws out an army of frogs. It would make a good meal, I'm sure. And with the state of the world today, beggars can't be choosers." She sighed quietly, and Daryl realized she was serious about not wanting to hurt any of the amphibious creatures.  
"What's the deal with you and frogs?" Daryl asked, pressing his lips together as he stared at her curiously.  
"They're my favorite animal," Sammy answered with a bright smile.  
"Why?" Daryl asked, eyebrows shooting up. The girl always seemed to surprise him, and her choice in animals was no different. What kind of a girl liked _frogs_?  
Sammy shrugged slightly and turned away. A few droplets of water started falling from the sky, and she turned her head up to watch as the downpour started. "Because," she said after a moment, slowly, as though picking her words carefully. "Any frog out there could be a prince, just waiting for his princess to kiss him and turn him human." She smiled at the country man, though the action was sightly forlorn. "It would be awful, waiting for your fate to be decided by some girl; hoping for a kiss, but fearing that no princess will ever be willing to even touch you because of what you are." She sighed dramatically, and Daryl just gave her a strange look. "Call me a hopeless romantic... but, I think that every frog should be treated kindly."  
"Weirdo." That was the only sane response to the girl's logic. Of all the things she could have picked as a reason to like them - they only lived in humid climates, they had long, sticky tongues, their bodies were coated in mucus, or even just because they were a relatively disliked creature by a lot of people - she chose a stupid fairytale reason.  
"And don't you forget it," Sammy shot back with a grin. She didn't give the man a chance to answer as she walked off into the thicket of trees. Daryl followed behind her, shaking his head.  
"Is that really the only reason you like frogs?" the man grumbled.  
"No," Sammy answered, glancing shortly at him. "I used to catch them with my brother when we were little; back during the better part of my childhood. So, they have the nostalgia factor going for them, too." She stopped short, looking worriedly at the country man. "You don't have to be out here with me, you know; it's raining, why don't you go inside?"  
"I wanna catch frogs," Daryl answered, fixing the girl with a curious look. "'Lil bit of water never hurt no one."  
Sammy looked pleased by the answer he gave. Another grin easily spread over her face, parting her pink lips and revealing the pearly-white teeth beneath them. "Okay. Let's find some warty princes!" Daryl laughed quietly at the girl's odd behavior, shaking his head as he followed after her.  
They trekked around for a few minutes before they came across any frogs. When they found a small cluster of the amphibious creatures, Sammy started stripping; she took off her vest before pulling off her under shirt. Daryl's face heated as he took in the sight of the half-naked woman. He averted his eyes quickly; by the time the thought crossed his mind to take in more of the woman, she had already put the vest back on, zipping it up and effectively covering the more risque parts of her body.  
When she started tying the openings shut on the sky blue shirt, Daryl stared on curiously. She left the hole for the head open, knotted the bottom shut and tied the long sleeves together to as a strap, resting it over her shoulder. She then squatted down and got to work, grabbing at the green creatures that hopped away from her advances. She dropped all her catches into the makeshift bag without a word, and Daryl soon joined in. The man had to admit that the girl made an impressive makeshift frog holder; try as they might, the creatures weren't able to hop out of the confines of the shirt.  
"I've never had frog before," Sammy stated absently, breaking the silence that had fallen over the two.  
"It ain't bad," Daryl assured her, but his words drew a frown from the blonde.  
"I assume it doesn't taste as bad as you'd expect frog to taste." Frogs were slimy, warty creatures. Sammy scrunched up her nose at the thought of eating that.  
"Thought you liked frogs," Daryl teased. "You judging them by how they look?"  
"No!" Sammy defended, shooting the man a slight glare. "My love for them just makes it difficult to think 'yum, this looks like a delicious meal!' Plus, I'm sure they're not complaining about my reservations on eating them. That's negative judgement that they probably like."  
Daryl laughed at the short rant. "Yeah, probably," he agreed, dropping another frog in her bag. He paused, watching as she stood and pushed her hair out of her face. The usual mass of curls fell straight down in their soaked state, and the water glistened on her cheeks and bare arms. He swore that her eyes looked greener than they had been the last time he saw them; they almost matched the color of the frogs they were catching. She gave him a curious look, and he averted his gaze and pushed away his thoughts of the strange girl.  
"Something on your mind?" Sammy asked squatting next to the man as she grabbed another frog.  
"No," was Daryl's short answer, not even sparing her a glance.  
"What, it's empty up there?" Sammy teased, poking Daryl's forehead lightly. Her actions earned her a slight glare from the man, but she just responded to the look with a smile. "I find that hard to believe. The silent ones are always the most thoughtful. I bet your a lot smarter than you let on." She gave him a cute smile, but the compliment didn't deter the insult that followed.  
"Well, that explains why you talk so much," Daryl deflected, his lips curving upward into a playful smirk.  
"Oh, that strings," Sammy whined, holding a hand dramatically over her chest at the insult. She recovered quickly and rolled her eyes half-heartedly. "Actually, I just decided that I'm tired of sitting in the background all the time while everyone cuts a rug. I used to be a woman of very few words - I know, unbelievably, a quiet woman." The sexist joke drew a chortle of laughter from the man. Sammy grinned at her accomplishment and shook her head. "And it doesn't hurt that I find you very easy to talk to."  
"Well, that's a first," the man muttered, giving her an odd look as he dropped another frog in her bag. "People tend to avoid me like the plague." He stopped, a thoughtful expression consuming his face. That statement wasn't quite true anymore. People used to give him a wide berth, even well into the end of the world, but they were much less frightened of him now. Most people in Alexandria still didn't go out of there way to talk to him, but most of them didn't cross the street to avoid being near him. Among his group, he was useful and trustworthy, and they openly welcomed him. Everyone else tolerated him. And then, there was Sammy; she hardly knew him, yet she always went out of her way to be nice to him. He shook his head lightly, watching the girl with slight amusement as a frog slipped out of her grasp. "Used to, at least," he corrected. "Guess I changed, and people's perception of me changed."  
Sammy nodded slightly in understanding, letting the tenacious creature have it's freedom in favor of turning her full attention to Daryl. "Well," she started slowly, mulling over her words as she stared at the country man thoughtfully. "I don't know what you were like before, but I like how you are now. And I've been told on multiple occasions that people never really change; so I'm sure that past you was pretty awesome. You just upgraded. Daryl 2.0." She giggled quietly at the quiet scoff she got from the man.  
"I guess," he begrudgingly agreed, not sounding so sure. He had to avert his eyes from the intense look she gave him. Her eyes were definitely greener now.  
"You're totally awesome," Sammy said, her abnormally squeaky tone drawing the man's attention back to her. She held a frog up near her face, a comically serious expression taking over her features as she flailed the poor creature's limbs around and continued in the strange voice. "I'm a prince, so I know awesome! And you, sir, deserve to be a knight of the round table, you're so awesome!"  
Daryl stared at her for several silent moments. He tried hard to fight it off, pressing his lips together into a tight line. His cheek twitched at the effort. It wasn't long before the smile broke out on his face, though, his shoulders shaking from the laughter that he tried desperately to keep from escaping him. Sammy grinned at the accomplishment, rubbing the frog's forehead affectionately and taking a moment to appreciate the sound of the man's laugh. It was almost melodic to her ears. Her chest ached strangely as she listened to it.  
"You're right, Prince Froggy," Sammy agreed, barely sparing the green creature a glance before her eyes were glued onto the country man once more. "And, for making Daryl laugh, you've earned your freedom. All the princesses are probably dead, though, so... just avoid the zombies, little guy." With that, she released the creature, watching it hop away.  
"Ain't gonna kiss it?" Daryl teased. The question seemed to make the girl squirm slightly, her cheeks staining red. His questioning gaze only made it worse.  
"I'm not a princess," she answered flatly, waving off his question. Despite trying to act nonchalant, she couldn't bring herself to look in the man's direction. Daryl stared up at her as she rose to her feet. She looked down at the shirt, now stuffed full of the warty amphibians, and an easily smile pulled at her lips. "I think I've gotten my fill of frog catching, how 'bout you?" She smiled at Daryl as he stood from his position on the ground.  
A quiet squeak of surprise passed Sammy's lips when one of the frogs managed to jump out of its prison, landing on her back. She struggled sightly as she tried to catch it, odd noises escaping her as she stretched and turned at unnatural angles. Her finger grazed the creature, but a shriek passed her lips when it managed to crawl down her vest. Its slimy, wet body rubbed against Sammy's back as it crawled down, and the girl bit on her lip to keep from screaming.  
"Get it out!" Sammy cried, a deep frown pulling at her lips at the unpleasant sensation. Daryl was laughing too hard at this point to be if any use. The man doubled over as he tried to fight the noises drawn out of him in his amusement, but he made no move to assist the woman. Finally, the frog made it to the bottom of the vest, and Sammy grabbed it before it fell to the ground. When she brought it up to her face, she had a heated glare locked onto the creatures.

"I'm going to eat you first, you cheeky little bastard."  
Another surprised noise was drawn from the woman when a tongue shot toward her face. The pink muscle attached itself to her cheek, wet and sticky. She dropped the creature, it's tongue detaching as it fell to the ground. Sammy was close behind, falling backward into the mud below. Tears formed in the country man's eyes as his body shook with laughter, the shocked expression on the girl's face only fueling his amusement.  
Sammy shot the man a glare, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. She was assaulted by a frog, and Daryl had just stood there, laughing at her. The nerve of some people! "That was a Daryl frog," she decided, narrowing her eyes at the man. That seemed to put a damper on his mood, his laughter dying down quickly.  
"The hell you naming it after me for?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes at the woman in return as he fought to catch his breath.  
Sammy grinned wryly up at him. "Tenacious little bastard, wasn't he? Doing everything in his power to get out of a sticky situation." She nodded, unable to keep the venom in her voice for long. "Reminds me of you."  
"Now I can't tell if you're insulting me or complimenting me," Daryl grumbled, running a hand through his soaked hair. He offered his other hand to the fallen girl, and Sammy accepted the help. She was easily pulled up to her feet by the man, her hand lingering in his as she stared up at him.  
"Well, it's hard to insult someone by comparing them to your favorite animal," Sammy offered, a cheeky grin spreading across her face  
"True enough," Daryl agreed, a silent laugh on his lips. He leaned a little closer, the playful green eyes seeming to draw him in.  
Sammy's heart leaped into her throat as she realized the man's face advancing on her. Was he going to _kiss_ her? The thought suddenly scared her. She pulled away quickly, prying her hand from his and trying to fight back the heat traveling up her neck; it was battle she was losing.  
"So, what's your favorite animal?" Sammy deflected as she glanced away, trying to calm her suddenly erratic heartbeat.  
Daryl licked his lips absently, watching as red spread over the girl's face. "Vension," he answered distractedly.  
"Deer?" Sammy asked, turning back to him in surprise. She couldn't help the grin that pulled at her lips. "Why?"  
"Good eatin'." Daryl smirked slightly when Sammy's smile widened.  
"Well, if we're going with animals we like to _eat,_ I'd have to say cow," Sammy replied with a quiet laugh on her lips, turning away and starting the trek back home. Daryl fell into step beside her without a word, though his eyes would occasionally wonder in her direction. "What about besides that? An animal that you don't like just because it tastes good?"  
Daryl chuckled quietly, turning his gaze ahead as he thought on the question. Not even a year prior, he may have answered with something manly and cliche`; wolves, bears, lions maybe. His brother would have teased him relentlessly for anything less. Now, though; after having grown more as his own person, without the influence of his older brother pressuring him to be something he wasn't; he had to give the answer some thought.  
"Horses," he decided, pressing his lips together as he mulled over his answer. Sure, there was the incident Nervous Nelly, who almost got him killed back on Hershel's farm, but the experience with the creature hadn't shattered his view of the species entirely. He'd had many good experience in the past, back when he used to work as a farmhand during his adolescence; it seemed like so long ago now, but he remembered sneaking horses out of barns and taking them for joy rides whenever the opportunity arose. It was one of the few good memories from just another shitty part of his life.  
"Yeah, horses are pretty cool," Sammy agreed, his choice seeming to please her; if the wide grin on her face was any indication. The man actually remind her of a horse in a lot of ways, and not just because of his country demeanor. "Strong, smart, loyal, and useful for so many things. I can understand having an affinity for them."  
Daryl scoffed quietly. "Better than _frogs, anyhow."_  
 _"Also,"_ Sammy continued as though she hadn't heard him, though there was a slight edge to her voice now, "an animal that a lot of prepubescent girls love; is there something you're not telling me, Daryl? Or should I call you _Darlyna_?"  
"Shut up," the man scoffed, shoving Sammy lightly as they walked. The name brought back a strange sense of nostalgia. All the times that Merle had teased him and called him a girl seemed less harsh than they had been in the moment; maybe the man's death just made him feel fonder of the time they had spent together, good and bad.  
Sammy giggled in response, quickly recovering from the assault and falling back into step beside Daryl, standing a little closer now. "Hey, you asked for that one. Dissing frogs like that; you shouldn't have expected anything less." She sent him a playful smile, but the man just rolled his eyes in response.  
The wind started picking up as they drew closer to the community, the water pelting the two harshly now. They picked up their pace, running toward the gates as the walls came into view. Sammy entered first, helping Daryl push the gate closed against the hostile winds. After it was secured, the two took off again; Daryl's house was closer, and the man took the lead as he headed home.  
They didn't slow their pace again until they entered the house. They were both soaked through, large water droplets falling down and puddling on the hardwood floor beneath them. They stared silently at each other, breathing heavily as they recovered from the mad dash to shelter. Sammy broke down first, a grin spreading across her face before the laughter bubbled up in her chest. Daryl was quick to follow, his laugh deep and more boisterous than the girl had ever heard him laugh before; the noise sent tingles up and down her spine.  
"What on earth?" Carol walked into the hallway, stopping short when she saw the two. "Oh, dear." The words came out breathless as she glanced between them. "You're soaked. Let me get you some towels." She rushed off again before returning shortly with two towels. She handed them off to the two, her brows drawing together in confusion. "What happened? Why were you out in the rain?" Her question was directed at Daryl.  
"Catchin' frogs," the man answered, unable to wipe the crooked grin off his face, even with the assistance of the towel.  
"Good afternoon, Carol," Sammy greeted cheerfully. She gratefully took the offered towel and rubbed her hair and exposed skin down quickly.  
"Samantha," the woman greeted in return.  
Sammy stiffened at the name, pausing in her actions as the smile fell from her face. "It's Sammy," she corrected, not even sparing the older lady a glance. She finished with her towel, tossing the item over Daryl's head for good measure before taking the makeshift bag off of her shoulders.  
"Son'va-" Daryl pried the towel from his face to send Sammy a glare. He stopped short when he saw the forlorn smile on her face, shirtful of frogs held out toward him. He pressed his lips together, taking the offered item without a word.  
"You guys enjoy the frogs," Sammy ordered softly, going to leave.  
"Why don't ya' stay a while?" Daryl suggested, watching the girl curiously. Her sudden mood change was unnerving to him; she was so happy a moment ago, and now she was radiating sadness despite the smile that adorned her face. He didn't like seeing her like that, trying to force herself to stay happy. "Least 'til the storm dies down a bit. You're a scrawny thing; don't want the wind blowin' you away." He drove his point across with a quick jab to the girl's ribs.  
Sammy let out a squeak, jumping nearly a foot in the air as she tried to put distance between herself and the assault. She let out a huff of air, shooting Daryl a glare. "I'm not _that_ _small_!" she defended fervently. "Maybe you're just freakishly tall, did you ever think of that!?"  
Daryl just smirked at her retaliation. If she was trying to be intimidating, then the pout she was giving him had the opposite effect. He didn't reply though, just shook his head and passed the towels off to Carol.  
"Wanna help me fry these guys up?" he asked the woman, lifting the frogs slightly to indicate what he was talking about.  
Carol smiled up at the man and nodded in response. "Throw them in some water, I'll be there to help in just a minute." With that, she walked away, disappearing into a room a ways down the hall.  
With a slight jerk of his head, Daryl led the way to the kitchen. Sammy followed close behind, her boots squeaking quietly against the floor. Daryl did as Carol had instructed, filling up a large container with water and pouring the amphibious creatures into it. The frogs swam around awkwardly, bumping into each other in the crowded space. Daryl grabbed one of them, unsheathing his hunting knife with his other hand and heading to the counter. He placed the creature down, his blade easily sliding through the slimy flesh.  
A thud drew his attention away from his work, his eyes darting toward Sammy. The girl was deathly pale, her eyes closed and her body pressed against the far wall in the room, sliding down to the floor. Daryl moved fast, dropping the items from his hands and rushing toward her side.  
"Sammy," he hissed, dropping to his knees beside the girl. He lightly tapped her cheek, his other hand instinctively wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her a little closer. "Sammy? Sammy, can you hear me?"  
The girl's eyes fluttered open, lifting to meet Daryl's. The man breathed out a quiet sigh of relief, the tightness in his chest easing as he saw those green eyes staring up at him in confusion. Color quickly returned to her cheeks in excess, and she looked slightly horrified for a moment before calming down.  
"I fainted," she noted, pressing her lips together. "I saw you kill a frog, and I fainted. _Jesus,_ that's embarrassing."  
A crooked grin pulled at the man's face, a quiet chuckle escaping him. "Don't worry, I ain't gonna tease ya' _too_ much for that one."  
Sammy's face turned a deep red, and she glanced away from the man. "I think I'm just going to wait in the living room. I don't think I can handle watching you kill them, let alone me _trying_ to kill one. Probably'd fall face-first on a knife... Let's not do that, that sounds like a bad time."  
Daryl laughed again, helping the girl to her feet as she pushed herself off the ground. He held her hips as she stood, making sure she was steady. They lingered longer than necessary, and Sammy didn't fail to notice.  
"I'm fine," she assured the man, trying to wave him off as she headed for the living room. Daryl ignored her words. He stayed close as he guided her to the other room, a hand lingering on her lower back.  
"Just makin' sure you don't keel over again," Daryl argued, his voice quiet as he fought the worry out of it.  
Sammy's face flushed red all over again, but she didn't dispute it as the man led her to the couch. She sat down with a quiet sigh, expecting Daryl to promptly return to the kitchen. When he dropped to his knees in front of her instead, she could only stare on in surprise. His fingers nimbly worked to undo the knot of her shoelace, pulling her shoes off her feet.  
"Lay down," the man ordered, tossing the boots aside and standing from his spot on the ground. He gave Sammy a look that left no room for argument, and the girl pressed her lips together as she complied, her head finding the arm rest and her feet kicking up to rest near the other. "Lemme know if you need anything."  
Sammy couldn't manage a verbal answer in response to his concern. So, staring up at the man with a strange admiration that only seemed to grow the more time she spent with him, she merely nodded. Daryl nodded curtly in response, his eyes lingering on Sammy a moment more before he disappeared back into the kitchen.  
When the country man entered the room, Carol was already there, working on preparing the frogs. Without a word, he took his spot beside her. Retrieving his knife, he continued to cut apart the frog he had left on the counter.  
"You're getting awfully cozy with that newcomer," Carol noted as they worked, keeping her voice low so as not to be overheard by the subject of the conversation. She could hear the quiet humming from the girl in the living room from where she was. The tune was oddly familiar to the elderly woman; something nostalgic that she could have sworn she had heard before in her youth.  
"Yeah," Daryl responded, a defensive edge to his voice. He didn't even try to deny it; it's not like he was doing anything wrong by spending time with her. "What of it?"  
"Nothing," the older woman said skeptically. She spared the country man a glance, noticing the way his eyes narrowed just so. Like he was daring her to start badmouthing the girl. "Just don't want you getting hurt, is all."  
"Ain't gonna get hurt," Daryl scoffed, rolling his eyes away from the woman. "Sammy's a good kid."  
"And she's just that," Carol added on, a slight venom rolling off the tongue. Her eyes found the country man, and she gave him a hard stare. "A _kid._ You best keep that in mind, Daryl."  
Daryl pressed his lips together, returning the heated look to the older woman. He read it on her easily, though; she was jealous. Jealous that this new girl would steal him away. He could almost agree with her, that Sammy was too young to be anything more than a distant friend; despite everything that had changed in the passed year, there were still the lingering morals from the old society; hurting children was wrong, stealing from the elderly was wrong, and getting close to women half your age was wrong. But Sammy was an adult, even before the world had ended. And _Daryl_ was an adult. And there were no rules keeping the two from being together. He would be damned if a jealous, old lady was going to try to act like his mother and keep them apart; he'd had enough bad parenting from his own biological parents.  
"Actually, she ain't a kid," he corrected, his voice clipped. He stared down at the frog in front of him, watching as his blade sank into the creature and clicked harshly against the counter beneath. "She an adult. And she can make her own damn _adult_ decisions. If she chooses to hang around me, the hell are you to stop her?"  
Carol's face softened slightly at his words, reading a little more into them than he had actually said. She could practically feel the insecurity radiating off of him in angry waves. He didn't think he was _good enough_ for her; Carol couldn't help but to wholeheartedly disagree with the man's belief of his self-worth. "Daryl, I didn't mean..."  
"Ain't none of your damn business, anyhow," Daryl cut the woman off, a scowl on his face as he tossed the remnants of his current frog and went to grab another one.  
Carol's face hardened again, and she turned away as her mask fell back into place. Daryl Dixon was the last person she ever thought she'd have a fight with. He was the last person she _wanted_ to fight with; he had done so much for her in the past, she didn't want to upset him.  
"I just want you to be happy," Carol started, her voice quiet as she stared down at the blade in her own hand. It slid smoothly through the frogs as she calmly worked, not betraying her inner turmoil. "If she makes you happy, then do as you please. I just don't wanna see you get hurt." She watched the man through the corner of her eye, gauging his reaction.  
Daryl's blade faltered as he went to kill the frog in front of him. He stared at the creature silently as he mulled over the woman's words. She was talking like he and Sammy were more than friends. Like they could ever _be_ more than friends. He bit his lip, holding the gaze of the creature who's fate was in his hands. Its golden eyes seemed to plead for him to spare its life.  
"She's just a friend," he said quietly. The frog started squirming beneath his hand, but he still made no move to end its life. "Ain't ever gonna be more than that. Girl like her don't go for guys like me."  
Carol pressed her lips together, turning to watch the man. He set his knife down, brushing his nails along his scalp as he watched the frog struggling for freedom. It broke her heart to see that pained look in the man's blue eyes.  
"Daryl Dixon," she said sternly, fixing him with a hard look. "You're a good man. And you deserve love just as much as anyone else. If she ain't interested in you, then screw her; she don't know what she's missing."  
Daryl felt his face heat up. He looked at the woman beside him, his eyes widening slightly. He knew that she had some odd affinity for him; he honestly couldn't tell if they were romantic feelings or more along the lines of maternal feelings; but he never expected her to spew out something like that. He honestly didn't know how to reply. He thought about denying any feeling for Sammy, but figured that would seal his fate; women always seemed to draw the opposite conclusion from what they're told in such situations. So, he went with the simplest reply.  
"Shut up," he muttered, averting his gaze.  
Carol smiled softly at the response. "You know it's true," she mused, a motherly tone in her voice.  
"Shut up," Daryl repeated, taking the frog in his hand and promptly exiting the room before the older woman decided to start teasing him. Carol just laughed quietly as the man fled, content enough with cooking on her own. She was used to that, at least.  
Daryl made a b-line for the living room, seeing the back of Sammy's head from her spot on the couch before he entered. She had since sat up, and Daryl could only assume that she was feeling better now. Her golden locks where curled perfectly in their dampened state, and they swayed along with her head in time with the tune she was quietly humming to herself. Daryl tossed the frog in her direction without a word.  
Sammy stiffened as the creature landed on her lap. The color drained from her face instantly, and a startled squeaking noise left her lips as she quickly stood. The creature fell off of her lap and onto the carpet below. With a quiet ribbit, it was quickly back on its feet and fleeing.  
"Oh, shit!" Sammy breathed, lunging for the creature. She managed to catch it after a moment of struggle, her face pressed into the carpet as she outstretched her arms for it and her hips thrust awkwardly into the air. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she was certain she had a hold of the frog.  
"The hell was _that?"_ Daryl barked in laughter, watching the girl's performance. His eyes were now glued to the particularly nice display of her backside in the odd position.  
"Shut up," Sammy huffed as she sat up, sparing him a slight glare as she held the frog close to her chest. "I thought you threw a dead frog at me. I'll admit, I freaked out a little bit there." A breathless laugh escaped her, and her easy smile was back in place as she looked down at the animal. Her fingers brushed softly between its eyes as she apologized to it. "Sorry I threw you to the ground like that, little guy."  
Another ribbit escaped it, its neck puffing out slightly. Sammy just grinned in response as she stood from the floor. She turned to Daryl with a curious look, the man just watching her with an odd smile adorning his face.  
"So, why are you throwing frogs at me, Dare?"  
The nickname drew color to the country man's face, but he didn't dispute it. If he were being honest, he kind of liked it. The name had grown on him. "It's a Sammy frog," he answered instead, giving her a shit-eating smirk.  
"What, it was too damn adorable to kill?" Sammy questioned with a laugh, holding the frog beside her face as though to compare. "It's the eyes, isn't it?"  
Daryl let out a chortle of laughter, looking between the two. "Yeah, actually," he chuckled, eyes lingering on Sammy now. "I think it is."  
Sammy felt her face warm from the look the man gave her. She lowered the animal, holding Daryl's gaze despite her stomach fluttering wildly from those intense, blue eyes staring her down. The trance was broken when she felt something wet on her hands. A deep grimace pulled at her lips as she realized what it was, he eyes darting down to the creature in her hands.  
"Ew," she groaned. "I think it just pissed on me."  
Sammy ignored Daryl's boisterous laughter, side stepping the couch and quickly heading toward the door. The rain was still beating down outside, but the patio kept the girl dry as she exited the house. She descended the stairs, squatting down on the bottom step to release the frog into the yard. She barely heard the footfalls of the country man as Daryl stepped out behind her. She ignored his presence, though, stretching her arms out and letting the rain clean her hands.  
"Letting 'er go?" Daryl questioned, stopping beside her on the step and watching the frog hop away.  
"It's a he," was Sammy's response. "And frogs make terrible pets."  
"How you know it's a he?" Daryl asked, brows lifting slightly at the proclamation.  
Sammy shrugged slightly. "I remember reading somewhere that female frogs don't _ribbit."_ She gave the country man a sheepish grin. "I could be wrong, though. I'm not an expert. Frobert also had very masculine legs, though, so I'm going to say it's a he."  
"Frobert." Daryl pressed his lips together as he repeated the name. He almost wanted to laugh, but he didn't want to encourage her; it was a terribly name, and they both knew it.  
"Prince Frobert, with eyes like a princess," Sammy teased, standing up and turning to face the man. She had to crane her neck back to see his face with the close proximity. "Which means I have eyes like a princess, I guess." She laughed quietly, batting her eyelashes at the man playfully.  
"Yeah." Daryl's voice came out huskier than normal as he stared down the woman in front of him, nearly chest to chest with her.  
He seemed to lean a little closer, and Sammy felt her chest tighten. Her body seemed to move of its own accord now. Before she knew it she had closed the distance between them, her lips brushing against the country man's. It was barely even a touch, but the chapped lips sent a jolt of electricity through her. She only lingered for a moment before pulling away, her face burning as she realized he wasn't returning the kiss. She stared up at him worriedly, but Daryl merely stared back down at her, his eyes widened slightly but giving nothing away.  
"I, uh..." Sammy backed away, making her way up the steps slowly. "I should probably go. Um... sorry. Enjoy the frogs."  
Daryl watched as she disappeared through the door. He followed after her in a slight daze, his lips tingling oddly. He lightly brushed his fingers over the flesh before pressing his lips together. What was _that?_ She had _kissed_ him; though, it could hardly even be called that. His mind finally caught up to him, the questions racing in a mile a minute.  
By the time he made it back inside, Sammy was already heading back out, her shoes on her feet and her shirt slung over her shoulder. She brushed passed the country man, her eyes not leaving the ground below her. Daryl turned to face her, his mouth opening and shutting as he tried to form a coherent thought.  
"Sammy, wait," he finally managed. He was met with the door slamming, the girl having already fled the house. Daryl stared silently at the door for several moments, his mind spinning. With a quiet sigh, he turned away and headed to an unoccupied room to be alone with his thoughts.

* * *

 **Oh, did I say you'd all like this chapter? I should have said you'd all _hate_ me by the end of this chapter. Ah, who am I kidding? You guys probably already hate me for taking almost 30 chapters for something to happen between Daryl and Sammy _and_ pretending to kill of the main protag. Sorry, peeps! Don't worry, though. I'm a hopeless romantic at heart, so everything will end up peachy keen between the two. :3 Or _will_ they? Yeah, they will... _Or will they?_**

 **Alright, enough of that. On another note, I do not recommend the movie "Sky" _. Unless_ you like getting your heart ripped out... screw that movie, that was not what I signed up for, asfdafs ;w;  
**

 **See you guys next week~!**


	29. Chapter 29

**I'M SORRY FOR HOW LATE THIS IS ASFDAFD. I ended up having to go to my sister's house for dinner, and I ended up staying later than I thought I would. I also felt the need for a 'reaction' chapter, if you will. Which I didn't have originally written out (that's why there's no chapter title for this one, hardy har har ;u; ), so I was kinda rushing to try to get this wedged in here :"D Sorry if it's not up to par. *le sob ;v;  
**

 **Anyway, since this is more of a continuation of the previous chapter, I'll try to have the next chap out before the end of the week. I need to polish it a lil bit, though, so we'll see how soon I can get to that... :I  
**

 **Enjoy the story~!**

* * *

 _Chapter twenty-nine_

* * *

Peter rushed into his house, pushing the door shut forcefully behind him against the harsh wind. He breathed out a sigh once he was in the safety of his house. He could still hear the storm outside pelting the home with large droplets of water. The blond shrugged off his jacket and hung it neatly in the closet beside the door. He heard Daniel and Abigail talking in the living room, but he bypassed the room in favor of the kitchen; he had been out all day, getting as much as he could done before the storm hit. Needless to say, he was famished. As he dug around their supply of rations, he listened in on the conversation in the other room.  
"Do you have blonde hair?" Abigail questioned the man, boredom apparent in her voice as she continued the game of twenty questions with him. She already knew what he had picked, barely five questions in, and it almost annoyed her that he would pick something so obvious.  
"Yes," Daniel answered cheerfully.  
"Sammy," Abigail sighed, picking at her ear with her pinky nail.  
"What- How did you?" Daniel's ears turned red, but he pressed his lips together and turned away in a huff. "Yeah, you got it. Your turn now."  
"Man, you're so gay for her," Abigail huffed now, sitting up straight to fix the man with a hard look.  
"Wha-?" Daniel looked at her in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline. "What are you _talking_ about? She's a woman, and I'm a man. What's gay about that?"  
"You're not a man!" Abigail laughed, crossing her arms across her chest and leaning back in her chair.  
"Yes I am!" Daniel argued, glaring at the woman now.  
"You know what a _real_ man would do?" Abigail asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she stared the man down. "A real man would grab the girl he likes and _show_ 'em how much he loves her!"  
Daniel's face turned red at the mental imagery the woman's suggestion invoked. He could practically picture himself, grabbing Sammy as she walked through the door, dipping her real low, and kissing her until she was begging for more. As appealing as the idea was, the man could distinguish between fantasy and reality.  
"That would never work," he said timidly, his eyes downcast.  
"Yeah, it will," Abigail assured smugly. "Trust me. I'm a woman, I know these things."  
Daniel glanced up at her skeptically, pressing his lips together. "Really, you think it would?"  
"Definitely," Abigail pushed, nodding her head curtly.  
"You think I should do it?" Daniel asked once more, leaning a little closer to the woman with curious eyes.  
"Oh yeah," Abigail encouraged, a laugh on her lips. "I think you should do the next time you see her. Like, don't even let her talk or anything. Just plant one on her."  
Daniel stared the woman down for several seconds as he thought over the suggestion. Abigail _was_ a girl, and he had no reason to doubt her advice. He had always been too afraid to try anything with Sammy, but maybe he shouldn't be. There were much scarier things in the world now to worry about; things that could easily kill him, such as zombies and psychopaths. He could be dead tomorrow, so why not take the risk? If nothing else, at least he would get a kiss out of it.  
"Alright," Daniel agreed, nodding his head somberly. "Next time I see her, I'm gonna kiss her."  
Abigail smirked, a chuckle on her lips. "That's the spirit," she encouraged him. The man was so gullible.  
"That's a _terrible_ idea," Peter threw in as he entered the room. He took a bite out of the sandwich he had thrown together, glancing between the two as he sat down. "She'll be pissed."  
"It's a terrific idea," Abigail argued cheerfully, though she shot Peter a look that she hoped would shut him up. She enjoyed seeing Daniel make an idiot of himself, and she didn't want the blond to ruin her fun. Goodness knew it was more fun than playing _twenty questions_ with the man.  
Peter shook his head with a slight laugh on his lips. While he wouldn't mind seeing Daniel get smacked around by Sammy for doing something stupid, he had his best friend's psyche to worry about. He knew how Sammy was when it came to romance and boys; she had her girly moments where she would ogle hot guys with him or drone on about what celebrity was cuter, but for the most part she was uninterested in men. Unless she was already attracted to someone, strong come-ons turned her off more than anything; and Peter knew for a fact that his friend was very much _not_ interested in Daniel romantically. Having a kiss forced on her would send her into a frenzy, he was certain.  
"You really shouldn't do it," Peter pushed, sending Daniel a skeptical look.  
"Don't listen to him, Danny," Abigail ordered, waving off Peter's words. "He's a guy, he doesn't understand what women want."  
"Oh, hunny, _please_ ," Peter shot back, lifting a brow at the woman as his, what his friends had deemed, "sassy mode" activated. "I'm more feminine that Sammy, so don't _tell_ me that I don't know what that girl likes." A dismissive snap of his fingers and Abigail was laughing heartily at his rebuttal.  
The door slammed open and shut, jarring the discussion between the three housemates. Daniel was on his feet in a flash, heading toward the door. Peter was close behind him, hoping to prevent the boy from doing something stupid. Abigail brought up the rear, hoping to encourage stupidity.  
"Sammy," Daniel called as soon as the girl was in sight.  
Sammy glanced up at him tiredly as he advanced on her. She really didn't feel like deal with the overly enthusiastic boy right now; she wanted to go into her room and wallow in self pity over how stupid she was. Before she could tell him as much, though, she found her world spinning, her heart leaping to her throat as she was forced toward the ground. She struggled against the vice around her hips and back, but stopped short when soft lips pressed roughly against hers. The contact warmed her chilled skin, but she could only widen her eyes in horror as the kiss was stolen from her. When she was back on her feet, Sammy reacted the only way she could manage. Her fist shot out on instinct, colliding against Daniel's face. The boy let out a startled cry as he fell to the ground.  
" _Fuck_ ," Sammy hissed, glaring down at her fist. As though silently spiting the area for hurting. She repeated the curse word as her eyes landed on Daniel. The man held his face, groaning in pain as he rocked back and forth in his spot on the ground. "Sorry, Daniel, didn't mean to punch you so hard..." She stared down at the man, feeling a little bad for having caused him so much pain; not for punching him, though. He had deserved that one. Abigail started laughing hysterically, but everyone did their best to ignore her.  
"Fuck," Daniel ground out, pushing himself up into a sitting position and sending Sammy a hard look. "That's your free shot."  
"Oh, no it's not," Sammy spat, a wry smile pulling at her lips. "That punch was totally justified. You _kissed_ me, you idiot! You can't just _force_ yourself on someone like that, you prick! I-" She faltered, her anger dying down a bit as she realized the hypocrisy of her words. She let out a quiet sigh, fixing Daniel with a sad look.  
"Listen, I know you like me, but I don't feel the same way about you," she told him, forcing all emotion out of her voice save for the apathy. "I care about you like a brother. I'm sorry. I have as much control over my feelings as you do; I'm sure you wouldn't feel that way about me if you could help it; I know how that feels, and I'm sorry that I can't return your feelings." She fought back the tears that threatened to spill now. "And, even if I did feel the same, it's a bad idea to act on those feelings. It's the _zombie apocalypse_ for fuck's sake; feelings like that can get a person killed. It's stupid. Stupid. _Stupid_."  
The house went silent. Only the sound of the rain pelting against the roof disrupting the tension in the room. Sammy turned away from the eyes that stared at her, brushing passed the other three occupants of the house and going to her room to dwell on her mistakes.  
She was so _stupid_. Why on _earth_ had she kissed Daryl? She had a very clear set of rules for surviving the zombie apocalypse, and no romantic involvement was at the top of that list. She had just completely disregarded her own rules; and now, she had to deal with _that_ on top of the fact that the man had rejected her. She felt like a complete idiot. Tears spilled from her eyes, despite her efforts to keep them at bay, and she fell into her mattress.  
 _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_  
Sammy growled in frustrating, pushing her face into one of the pillows on the bed. She held it tightly, willing her emotions to stop spiraling out of control. What was she supposed to say to Daryl after that? How was she supposed to look at him without remembering that she had practically thrown herself at him and he had _rejected_ her. She just ended up crying harder as the thoughts penetrated her mind. Her sobs were muffled by the soft bundle in her arms, and she hugged the pillow closer as she rode out her emotional breakdown.  
"Sammy?" The light knock at the bedroom door startled the girl out of her thoughts.  
Sammy held her breath until the sobs stopped trying to escape her. Then, she took several deep breaths between her sniffles, pulling away from the pillow enough to breathe properly. When the door opened, Peter's blond head peeked in.  
"Hey, are you alright?" the boy questioned, worry clear in his voice.  
"I'm fine," Sammy croaked out, wiping the offending liquid from her eyes. It didn't help, as more just built up and fell in its place.  
"You don't sound fine," Peter noted, stepping into the room and gently shutting the door behind him.  
"I don't wanna talk about it," Sammy reiterated, pressing her face into the pillow once more. "Just let me wallow in my self-pity."  
Peter watched the girl for several silent moments, pressing his lips together. Finally, he let out a quiet sigh and accepted the request. "I'm here if you need me," he stated, opening the door once more. "Just remember that, okay?"  
Sammy glanced toward the door, giving the boy a slight smile and a nod in response. With a sympathetic smile in return, Peter let the girl be. The door clicked quietly as it shut, and Sammy let out a pathetic sigh as she stuffed her face into the pillow once more.

* * *

Daryl shut the door behind him as he entered his designated room. It slammed against the frame with more force than he intended, and the man stopped short to mentally curse the mistake. The thought didn't linger long, though, as his mind was quickly re-invaded with his previous thoughts.  
The kiss. Daryl touched his lips lightly, feeling the odd string of emotions stirring in his stomach. Sammy had kissed him; it was barely a kiss, but a kiss none the less. And he had just stood there like an idiot until the girl ran away. He should have said something before she left; anything would have been better than watching her leave with that pained look, hidden behind a tight-lipped smile. What _could_ he have said, though? He hadn't the slightest idea.  
Did he even have feelings for her? He had never even entertained the idea; she was always so sunny and happy and he never thought that _she_ would have any romantic feelings for _him_. She seemed so perfect, and he was... Well, he was Daryl Dixon. He was quite and rough around the edges. He was _broken_ ; why would Sammy want _him_? He couldn't even understand why the girl spoke to him, let alone why she would feel the desire to kiss him.  
A knock at the door startled the man out of his thoughts. He spun around and pried the barrier open. Carol stood on the other side with a strange look on her face; something akin to worry.  
"You alright?" she questioned, confused. First, Sammy had all but stormed out of the house, then Daryl was in here slamming doors. She wasn't sure what she should be worried about, if anything.  
"Fine," Daryl grumbled. He glanced down at his clothes, the material still damp and sticking to his body uncomfortably. "I'm gonna change." He jerked his head back toward his room, shutting the door after he got a nod of confirmation from the woman.  
Daryl went to the small pile of clothes that had been tossed near the corner of his room; the reason why he had his own room to begin with. All the others in the group had griped over his unorganized pile of clothing in the living room during the first week. He never understood why; it's not like he had that much to wear, it didn't take up much space at all. Regardless, he had been instructed to keep his mess in his room. He didn't have any complaints over that, and had been happy to oblige.  
Pulling out some random clothing and giving them the smell test, Daryl changed out of his wet outfit and into something more comfortable. He thought on his situation, wondering how to go about handling it. Even if he had feelings for the girl, it would be a bad idea to act on them; in his experience, women changed once they trapped a man in a relationship. They got clingy and moody, always expecting things from him without telling him _what_ ; expecting him to change, be more open and sympathetic and _not him_. He didn't want things to change with Sammy. He enjoyed her company as it was and, while he wouldn't be opposed to a quick tumble in the sheets now and again with the girl, he wasn't sure that anything more would be a good idea.  
No, he knew what he would do about the situation. He would ignore it. Pretend it never happened; surely, Sammy would be grateful if he never brought it up again. And the two could go on as they had been the passed few weeks. As good friends, who seemed to understand each other without the need for mindless chitchat, and nothing more. What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

 **Oh, Daryl, you're such a guy c: I feel the need to point out the fact that I THINK DARYL IS A PERFECT BEING OF LIGHT SO BEAUTIFUL AND AMAZING I JUST CAN'T, HE BLINDS ME WITH ALL HIS AWESOME. All that junk about being broken and stuff, I just think that's some self-doubt he would have. I mean, it makes him so adorably awkward, much as I hate that he would ever see himself as anything less than the amazing creature he is; it's one of those 'he doesn't know how perfect he is and that makes him even more irresistible' things, I think. Also, I TOTALLY DON'T THINK SAMMY IS IN ANY WAY PERFECT. I figured that, having developed (coughrepressedcough) feelings for her, he would see her in such a way.. I did my absolute best not to make her Mary Sue, and if she is, well... Hopefully I'll get to even out her character traits some more in these next few chapters and make her less so.. She has a lot of faults, I'm just not sure if they've really gotten through yet... But, don't get me wrong, I do think she's totally awesome and I love writing her character. c:  
**

 **Anywho, enough of my rambling! I'll see you guys next time, have a wonderful week! ;) (Hopefully less than a week before the next update, I suggest checking back Thursday or Friday for it c: )**


	30. Chapter 30

**ADFGHADFK sorry this is so late ;.; *crawls into a box*  
**

 **Enjoy the story.**

* * *

 _Chapter thirty: Jobs_

 _Most communities and settlements you'll find through this new hell on earth will have you work to earn your keep. And you should help out whenever you can, but don't overexert yourself in the process; you're no good to anyone out of commission. Listen to the people in charge, but don't be afraid to suggest doing a job you know you'll excel at._

* * *

Sammy awoke the next morning to a sneeze. She realized absently that it had come from her. Her clothes were stiff and still quite damp, and the girl realized how 'cold' she was. She grumbled at her own stupidity of having fallen asleep in wet clothes as she got up and got ready. One hot shower later and Sammy felt rejuvenated. It was time to bury the past, repress the embarrassment, and move one with her life.  
Sammy exited her house and took a deep breath. The morning air was crisp and fresh, and humidity hung in the air from yesterdays rain. The girl realized it couldn't be any later than eight; she still hadn't grown accustom to clocks in her life again, and therefore tended to ignore their existence. She honestly preferred not to know the exact time, anyway. It gave a strange sense of freedom, not being tied down by time.  
With a swift exhale, Sammy descended the steps of her porch to roam the town. Her eyes scanned around, looking for something to entertain herself with. Few residents were out and about this early, consisting mostly of the older generations. One of these people was the mayor herself, who waved Sammy down and gave the younger woman an enthusiastic greeting.  
"Good morning, Sammy," the woman extended with a smile.  
"Mornin'," the girl responded, hands finding their way into her pockets as she approached the woman.  
"I'm glad I ran into you," Deanna continued on. "I've been thinking about it, and I believe that I've found the perfect job for you."  
"Yeah?" Sammy's eyes shot up in surprise.  
"Well, we don't have all of the assets in place just yet, but I'm sure that your friend, Abigail, can help out with building the necessary machinery; that girl's very tech-savy, I've noticed."  
Sammy nodded dully as she waited for the woman to get to the point. She couldn't help but be reminded of her grandmother, just slightly; the woman would ramble aimlessly about just about anything. Sammy had to suppress the smile at the bittersweet memory.  
"Building a radio station shouldn't be too difficult for her," Deanna stated.  
"Hold on," Sammy interrupted, brows drawing together as her mind drew conclusions. "What is it you want me to do, exactly?"  
"Well, for lack of a better job title, you'd be a radio host."  
"A radio host?" Sammy echoed, jaw setting just so. She couldn't help but feel a little insulted at the job offer.  
"It won't be difficult," the woman continued in her persuasion, giving a very political smile. "You just talk into a mic all day. You can help us recruit new settlers, and you can share your tips on how to survive."  
Sammy's head spun. It felt like she had just been smacked across the face with a fish, and the stuffy air of civilization only seemed to make it worse. "I'll think about it," she said, but the words sounded distant to her own ears. She turned away, not waiting for a response from the woman as she headed for the gate.  
A radio show. What kind of a job was that? It made sense in the world before, for entertainment purposes, but what good would it do in a post-apocalyptic world? It seemed so useless, and she couldn't help but feel the anger build over the suggestion. She was good at what she did; killing zombies. That was all she felt useful for, but even that seemed more useful than sitting in a stuffy room and droning on into a microphone to an audience that probably didn't even exist.  
Her mind wandered to Daryl the longer she thought it over; _he_ had her journal, filled with her "tips on how to survive". Had he shown Deanna the notebook? Was that why she had propositioned her for the radio show? The thought just fueled the girl's anger and succeeded in embarrassing her.  
Before reaching the gates, she ran into the man now occupying her thoughts. Her eyes flashed dangerously as they locked with his. She stopped and stared at him. He held her gaze, his eyes wide; he didn't expect her first interaction with him to start so hostilely. The hairs on the back of his neck rose in response to the glare, but he did well keeping his cool under the gaze.  
"Need something?" he asked, holding his crossbow at rest over his shoulder. He shifted nervously from one foot to the other after a moment, his brows drawing together when she stayed silent.  
Sammy opened her mouth, but she didn't say a word. Instead, she snapped her jaw shut and shook her head, walking away from the man. She was too angry to talk to him right now. She needed to calm down and regain control of that nasty temper of hers. She made it to the gates and slipped out, turning to find Daryl right behind her.  
"You shouldn't go out alone," he reasoned with her, seeing the argument form in her mind before she even opened her mouth  
"I can take care of myself, Dixon!" she snapped, pressing her lips together tightly after the outburst. She shook her head, calming her nerves a bit. "I need to be alone right now." Her voice was quiet and dangerous, and something told Daryl to just keep his mouth shut and let her go; it didn't keep him from giving the woman a spiteful look, though. Sammy ignored it, shutting the gate between them before turning away and heading out.  
Peter saw his friend leaving as he approached the gates. He watched with knowing eyes as the girl walked away. "Something pissed her off," he commented, able to tell easily from nothing more than the way she was walking; she had a very distinctive angry walk. He glanced at Daryl, who's eyes stayed fixed on the female. A light bulb seemed to click on in his mind as he read worry on the man's face. "I'll go talk to her, and make sure she stays safe." He patted the country man softly on the shoulder. "It takes a little finessing to get her to open up, but you learn some tricks after knowing a person for ten years." Daryl's eyes snapped to Peter, finally giving the blond his attention.  
"Ten years?" He was surprised by that. The only people he had ever met that had known each other that long were married couples. And even then, one or the both had died at that point into this new world. "Are you two..?" He couldn't bring himself to say it aloud, the thought making him oddly queasy.  
Peter laughed at the unspoken question. "God, no," he said, sounding relieved at the fact. "Don't get me wrong, she's great, but... She doesn't have the right parts for me, if you get my drift." Daryl stared on, his eyebrows raising a fraction of an inch. Peter pulled the gate open, closing it behind him and pausing to observe the Dixon boy. "She doesn't much care for flowers, but..." His voice trailed off for a moment as he thought of how to get his point across. "She'd appreciate a gesture like that more than she lets on." He gave Daryl a smile before turning and chasing after his friend.  
Daryl stayed glued in his spot for several more seconds as he watched the two disappear into the thicket of trees. He breathed out a sigh, his mind wondering over the last thing the blond had said. With a shake of his head, Daryl turned on his heel and headed back to his house, deciding to work on his bike today instead of his previous plan to go hunting.  
Peter approached the angry woman cautiously, watching as she pulled out her sword and started flicking it around aimlessly. It reminded the boy of an angry housecat, its tail swishing about in irritation. Sammy muttered out a few insults at nothing in particular, her eyes darting around for something to plunge her sword through. She faltered when she saw her friend, the blond giving her a wistful smile when their eyes locked.  
"What are you doing out here?" Sammy questioned, brows drawing together.  
"Could ask you the same thing," Peter returned.  
"I'm looking for something to kill," Sammy answered.  
Peter grinned wryly. "I wanted to make sure you were alright," he answered her question.  
Sammy's shoulders deflated slightly at his proclamation. "I... Yeah, I'm okay," Sammy breathed out, averting her gaze.  
"Then why are you looking for something to kill?" Peter countered, giving the girl a knowing look.  
"Because, I'm angry and frustrated and everything is confusing." Sammy sighed dramatically, sparing her friend a glance. "It feels like before; a functioning society, mundane work, drama, _boy problems_. I don't wanna have to deal with all that crap on top of zombies. It's not fair!" Her voice came out as a whine by the time she finished, a pitiful look in her eyes as she stared at Peter. "Why can't we just roam around and kill zombies? It's so much easier!"  
Peter chuckled quietly, shaking his head at his friend. "You know you'd miss the hot showers," Peter answered, his voice joking but his reasoning serious. "And chocolate. And warm beds; working bathrooms."  
"I'm still not sure it's worth all the drama," Sammy sighed, though she knew he was right.  
"We can leave, if you really want to," Peter stated, pressing his lips together as he watched Sammy curiously. "Nothing's keeping us here."  
Sammy glanced away, her mind instantly going to the country man who she had grown an affinity for, despite her best efforts. Part of her almost wanted to jump on the offer. To pack up everything and just disappear; run away from all her problems instead of dealing with them like a responsible adult. With a sigh, she shook the thoughts out of her head. "No, I don't really want to leave," she admitted quietly.  
Peter nodded slowly. "So, why are you mad?" he questioned, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he waited for a response. "Also, I'm curious about your 'boy problems'." A slight smirk pulled at his lips when Sammy's cheeks turned red. "But, we can talk about that later."  
Sammy breathed out another sigh, facing away from her friend and crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you think I'm useful?"  
Peter's eyes widened slightly in surprise. _That_ was what had her down, thinking she wasn't useful? "Of course," he answered, a slight shrug pulling at his shoulder. "Why would you even have to ask that?"  
"Deanna," Sammy started, sparing the boy a glance before averting her gaze once more. "She offered me a job. As a 'radio talkshow host'." Sarcasm dripped from her voice as she rolled her eyes.  
Peter's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Seriously?" he questioned; if he knew anything about Sammy, it was that she wasn't good at expressing herself through words. The fact that the mayor thought she would make a good radio host was baffling.  
"She told me I could share my _survival tips_ or some bullshit," Sammy continued, another angry huff on her lips. "But, that just seems like such a _stupid_ job, given the state of the world right now. I mean, what use would that be? I should be out here, ridding the world of undead; not stuck behind a microphone, spewing random shit to people who probably aren't even listening. What kind of a job is that?"  
"Where did she even get the idea that you'd be _good_ at that job?" Peter questioned, amusement ringing clear in his voice. "Don't take it the wrong way, but it doesn't seem like something you'd even be good at."  
"Thank you," Sammy replied dryly, sending the boy a slight glare. Peter just shrugged bashfully in response. "But, you're right. I'd be _terrible_ at that. The only reason she might think otherwise is..." She paused, pressing her lips together as her thoughts went full circle and once again zeroed in on the country man. "Well, you know that survival guide thing I was writing?" Peter nodded slowly in response, the pieces coming together in his mind. "Daryl found it."  
"Oh." The blond pursed his lips as he watched Sammy; she looked somewhere between angry and embarrassed. "That's why you're mad at him?"  
"No," Sammy denied quickly. "Yes. Sort of; I don't know!" She groaned quietly, running a hand through her hair.  
"Boy problems?" Peter mused, giving the girl a sly grin.  
"Shut up," Sammy grumbled, her face turning red again.  
Peter shook his head, a quiet laugh on his lips. He didn't press the subject, though. "Well, what did you tell Deanna?"  
"I told her I'd think about it." She glanced at her friend, as though he held the answers to all her problems. "What do you think I should do?"  
Peter shrugged lightly. "Tell her what you told me; tell her you think it's a useless job."  
Sammy frowned and looked away, another problem presenting itself. "It's not like I'm doing anything useful right now," she muttered bitterly.  
"Then do it," Peter answered, lifting an eyebrow at the girl. "If you think it's more useful than what you're doing now. Or, find something else to do to help out around the community if you don't want to feel useless."  
"Like what?" Sammy questioned, another desperate glance sent to her friend with all the answers. "I can't think of anything useful that I could do; I can't build, I kill plants, and anything involving socializing makes me want to puke. The only things I'm good at are art, killing zombies, and picking out scumbags from good people. Not a wide skillset."  
"You could recruit," Peter suggested as the idea popped into his mind.  
"And it comes around full circle to _him_ again," Sammy muttered under her breath, gaze drifting downward.  
"Daryl," Peter replied; it wasn't a question, but a statement. "Want to talk about it?"  
Sammy breathed out a sigh, her cheeks turning red. "I kissed him," she blurted out, pressing her lips together at the confession. She still remembered the feel of hot, chapped lips against her own, and she had to push away the urge to find the man and kiss him again just to feel it all over again.  
"Aw," Peter cooed. Sammy shot him a glare, but it didn't deter the blond in the least. "You guys make such a cute couple."  
"We're not a couple," Sammy denied, her face burning. "It was one kiss; and he didn't even return it. And now I've made an awkward mess of everything!" She let out a frustrated sigh, silently cursing her impulse decisions.  
Peter offered an apathetic smile. "I see. Well, if he rejected you, there's not much you can do. Just try to get over it. Fester all of that anger over him showing your work to Deanna."  
Sammy let out a quite laugh. "I don't want to _hate_ him," she argued dryly.  
"It's weird, though," Peter muttered thoughtfully. "I definitely got the impression that he liked you."  
"Stop getting my hopes up!" Sammy exclaimed, shooting the blond a hostile look. She shook her head slowly, the anger draining from her. "Relationships are a bad idea any way, it was stupid for me to initiate anything."  
"Why do you say that?" Peter questioned. His voice held no judgement, just curiosity over the girl's decision.  
"It's the freakin' apocalypse," Sammy hissed, looking at Peter in disbelief. "Feelings like that get people killed."  
Peter shrugged slightly. "Or they make you stronger, give you something to live for." He shook his head lightly, glancing away. "Maybe Daryl feels the same; maybe he's too afraid of losing you to take a chance at getting that close."  
Sammy swallowed hard. "Seriously, stop getting my hopes up. It's not making me feel better."  
"Sorry." Peter smiled wryly. "That's honestly what I believe, though. I've seen the way you two interact, and it's hard to believe otherwise."  
"If you say so," Sammy muttered.  
"I don't think you should completely lose hope at this point."  
Sammy's argument faltered at that. "What if he dies?" she asked, her voice quiet. The thought of Daryl dying scared her; saying the words aloud shook her more than she was willing to admit.  
"Any one of us could die at any moment," Peter answered seriously, fixing the girl with a hard gaze. "You risk losing anyone that you form an attachment with. What if I die?"  
Sammy stared at her friend with wide eyes. "You're not going to die," she answered, her voice wavering slightly. "I won't let you. You're not allowed to die on me."  
"I'll die someday," Peter reminded the girl, a wry smile pulling at his face. "You can't stop it."  
Sammy swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "I don't like thinking about that," she replied. "I'd rather think that you're immortal. You're a protagonist, and this _isn't_ Game of Thrones, so you're not allowed to die."  
Peter chuckled at his friend, shaking his head in response to her logic. It was silent for several moments as the two stared at each other. Their thoughts lingered on their own mortality. Sammy could deny it all she wanted, but she knew her friend was right. Any one of them could die at any moment.  
"So, what should I do?" Her voice was quiet.  
"Do what you think you should do," Peter answered vaguely. He knew it wasn't the answer she was looking for, but it was the one she needed. He couldn't make the decisions for her, she had to do that on her own. "Everything will be okay in the end."  
Sammy nodded slowly, a small smile pulling at her lips. "Everything will come out in the wash." The quote from her grandmother made her feel a little better. Peter grinned, seeming to recognize the quote as well. "I'm still not feeling up to civilization, though; wanna go kill some zombies with me?"  
"Of course," Peter answered, a quiet laugh on his lips. He followed the girl farther into the woods, both of them keeping an eye out for the undead that roamed the land. Neither spoke as they walked; Sammy was mulling in her own thoughts, and Peter didn't care to distract her from making her decisions.


	31. Chapter 31

**SORRY THIS IS SO LATE. Lost my job, got evicted, lost internet... LIFE HAS BEEN SO MUCH FUN ASFGHF.**

 **Enjoy the story... ;-;**

* * *

 _Chapter thirty-one: Choices_

 _Things aren't always black and white in this world. Things happen sometimes that force you to choose between bad and worse. Is it okay to take a living life? Where is the line drawn between the living and the undead? There are too many scenarios that would all have different answers to those questions. When you're faced with a tough decision, you should weigh the options carefully. Try not to let your emotions decide for you. If you're having trouble making up your mind, try looking at things from a different perspective._

* * *

Daryl stood outside of the garage, a cigarette in his mouth. He was cleaning his bike, but the worry that clenched at his gut wouldn't leave him alone. He stared out toward the gate, just visible from where he stood, hoping that it would open up and reveal the smiling girl with bright eyes and honey blonde hair. He nibbled on the butt of his cigarette, the ash that clung to the other end breaking off and drifting gracefully to the earth. He heard the click of the gate as it unlocked, and his heart leapt. He started walking toward the gate, hoping to meet with Sammy and see her smile that carefree smile at him, the one that let him know she was okay.

His heart sank as he got closer, though, and he heard the girl's cries.

"Hurry up!" she wailed at the person manning the gate. She rushed inside, Peter's arm slung over her shoulder as she dragged the man in with her. The kid shut the gate behind them, but kept his distance from the injured man and the hysterical woman. Daryl broke into a sprint, his cigarette forgotten as it hit the ground.

"Petey, stay with me," he girl ordered, barely keeping the sobs from ripping through her. She cautiously set him down behind the safety of the walls, and didn't hesitate another second. "We have to amputate," she told him, her voice quivering as she pulled her belt from her pants. Her sword clattered against the concrete, but she paid it no mind as she tried to wrap the belt above where the bite was on his shoulder, but it was obviously no use. It was too high up to amputate, and even if it weren't, it had already been too long. There was no way he wasn't infected by now.

"It's no use," Peter said, defeat in his voice as he pushed away the belt that just wouldn't wrap where it was needed. He smiled up at Sammy, tears staining his eyes. "Just give it up, Sammy."

That was when she finally broke down. The girl fell to her knees, a painful sob ripping from her body. "No," she cried pathetically, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. Hydration be damned. Apathy be damned. This was her brother. She was losing a second brother, and her heart was shattering. "Petey, I'm so sorry." She forced air into her lungs passed the sobs. "It's my fault, I shouldn't have-"

"Shut up, you idiot," Peter laughed at her. "This isn't your fault. It's not, so... So don't say that, okay?" Sammy just cried harder, clinging to his shirt desperately. Peter's bottom lip quivered sightly. He was okay with dying, he really was. But watching Sammy cry over him like she was, it hurt.

"What happened?" Rick questioned, his eyes wide and alert as he arrived on the scene and took control.

Peter pulled down what was left of the shredded sleeve that covered his shoulder, showing the nasty bite mark beneath.

"How long ago?" Rick breathed out, his chest tightening.

"Too long," the blond answered bitterly.

Rick nodded in understanding. "Only one thing we can do," he says quietly as he reached for his gun. It didn't even leave the holster before he found himself with a blade pressed dangerously against his neck.

"Don't you dare," Sammy hissed at the man. Her voice was wet and rough from her crying, but the threat was not taken lightly. Daryl took a step closer, conflicted. He didn't want to hurt Sammy, but his first instinct was to help Rick. So he did.

He made a quick decision, managing to knock the weapon out of the girl's grip and restrain her arms from behind. She screaming and kicked and struggled against his grip; even managed to get a good elbow thrown into Daryl's ribcage. But the man refused to let her go.

"Sammy!" Peter's voice seemed to reach her, her body going limp in Daryl's grasp, and the man had to adjust his hold to keep her from falling to the ground. Quiet sobs could still be heard from her, but her entire demeanor seemed to change. She looked up at Rick with her tear stained eyes, pleading with the man.

"Please," she said quietly, her voice desperate. "Let me quarantine him. The second he stops breathing, I'll do it. I'll stab him through the head myself, but.. Please, just give me more time with him..."

Rick seemed to understand where the girl was coming from, but he was conflicted. Trusting the girl to do what she promised would put his family in danger, but he would have given anything to have those last few minutes with his dying wife. He looked to his right-hand man for help, and Daryl nodded to him. He sighed and rubbed his face, staring at the pitiful face of the heartbroken girl in front of him. He nodded back to Daryl, and then to his partner, Michonne.

"Quarantine him," he ordered. "Make sure someone is with him at all times for when he turns."

Relief flooded Sammy. She pulled herself from Daryl's grip, the man letting her go now that she had calmed down, and she rushed to Peter's side as Michonne escorted him away. Rick stared at Daryl, who watched Sammy as she left. When their eyes met again, Rick seemed to be trying to send him a very important message through his look alone. "Make sure that he's never left by himself." The words held more urgency this time, and the man knew that he could count on Daryl to follow that order. To keep their family safe. The southern man nodded stoically and followed after the others.


	32. Chapter 32

**Year long haitus? :"D MY APOLOGIES FOR THE LONG DELAY IN THIS CHAPTER. MORE TO COME SOON, I PROMISE.  
**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Chapter thirty-two Mistakes_

 _Mistakes will get you killed. But, let's face it, everyone makes them. No matter how hard you try, or how long you've stayed alive, sometimes things don't always go according to plan._

* * *

Sammy stared at her friend as she sat beside Peter's bed. The doctor, who Sammy was grateful to have in the town despite the creepy feeling he often gave her, was examining the wound.

"It's bleeding pretty bad," he mused quietly.

"Then patch him up," Sammy said, an edge to her tone.

"Samantha, we don't have the resources," Michonne stated. She understood the girl's reluctance to let her friend suffer, but she knew what would happen. The boy would just die and it would waste their medical supplies. Things like that were so difficult to come by these days, she didn't fancy the idea of wasting them on a dying boy.

Sammy inhaled sharply, seeing red as her eyes locked on to the pseudo cop. She almost did something stupid. If Peter's voice hadn't reached her, she probably would have.

"Samantha Hope Greyson!" Peter called, sitting up in the bed more and fighting through the pain. Even after so long, the name sent a jolt through the girl. Her mother would always use her full name when she was mad at her. If she recalled correctly, the last time she had been called that was when she snuck out all night and tried to return around noon the next day, unnoticed. Needless to say, that hadn't gone as she had planned. "Would you stop being so damn stubborn?"

Sammy's full attention was on her friend now, the crazy look gone from her eyes. She was still mad, though. She wouldn't let her friend bleed out in some fancy bed with a doctor in the room. So, she grabbed her bag and dumped it's contents on the ground, grabbing any medical supplies she spotted among the junk. She tossed the gauze to the doctor, the man fumbling with it and barely managing to not drop it. Then she pulled out a bottle of herb she had used in her cooking and a small bottle of vodka, walking up to the bed. She held out the bottle to Peter with a stern look on her face.

"Drink," she ordered, knowing it would help numb the pain. Peter gave her a strange look, which she read instantly and responded with a incredulous glare of her own. "Like that really matters right now, just fucking drink it."

The boy sighed and took a quick drink of the vodka. The look on his face told everyone in the room he wasn't big on drinking. Sammy took the bottle away before he could down too much, knowing it would likely hit him hard and fast. She poured a good chunk of the liquid over the open wound on his shoulder, the alcohol doing it job to sanitize the wound. Peter hissed out in pain, but was otherwise silent. Sammy then sprinkled some of the herb over it, drawing an odd look from most occupants in the room.

Peter laughed, passed his pain and the sheen of sweat on his brow. "You gunna eat me?" he teased breathily. "Contaminated meat's probably not good to eat."

Sammy laughed, though the sound was more sad than amused. "Nah, oregano has antibacterial properties," Sammy answered, snapping the cap shut on the bottle once she had finished. She sent him a teasing smile, though the action looked thoroughly forced. "Besides, your brand of gay is way too stringy for my taste. I think Aaron might have liked it, but," she shrugged, "too late now."

"Hey, I am not as gay as Eric," Peter defended with a chuckled.

The girl gave him a cheeky grin. "Oh please, you're more feminine than me." She turned her attention to the doctor, humor fading quickly. "Wrap him up," she instructed. Her voice was calmer now, but there was still an edge lingering that made the man follow her orders without argument. It wasn't long before Peter was laying back against the bed again, his eyes drooping and his hair damp from the drying sweat that had soaked it.

Sammy brushed some of the hair from his forehead, smiling down at him like a mother might a sick child. The action just barely reached her eyes. "Get some rest," she told him, her voice soft. Peter returned the smile as his eyes drifted closed and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Sammy continued to stare at him, the memories flooding into her mind again. This was her fault. He would never admit it aloud, but they both knew it. She was the reason her best friend was on his death bed.

She remembered standing there, in the middle of the woods. Everything was fine one minute; she had just retracted her blade from a lone walker's skull. Then it hit her like a brick. The world spun around her violently, black dots lining her vision. She dropped to her knees, hand finding perch on a tree as ringing in her ears drowned out the rest of the world. She rubbed at her temples, breath labored and eyes clenching shut as she tried to recover from the sudden attack. That one moment was all it took. Peter was distracted by her friend's concerning behavior, and neither of them had seen the Walker that had silently approach from behind. His scream was what had brought her back from the episode. Her rage and adrenaline was what gotten them back to camp in record time. But despite all of her efforts, he was still going to die. And it was because of her.

She sighed quietly and walked back to her chair, curling up uncomfortably in the small piece of furniture. She pushed her hat down a bit to cover her tear-stained eyes, not wanting the other occupants of the room to see her cry. Not anymore than they already had, at least. Daryl chewed on his thumb absently as his eyes drifted between the broken girl and the dying boy. When his gaze landed on Michonne, he nodded silently to the door, offering to take watch over the two for the time being. Michonne spared him a grateful look, offering a fleeting pat on his arm and the promise to return later to relieve him of his post.


	33. Chapter 33

**YES, TWO IN ONE DAY AS AN APOLOGY FOR THE LONG DELAY. PLEASE DON'T HATE ME. MORE TO COME SOON.**

* * *

 _Chapter thirt-three: Hope_

* * *

The room had been silent for over an hour now. Daryl sat on the ground, leaning back against the wall behind him. He twiddled his thumbs silently, wishing he had something to do with his hands, but determined to keep his promise to Rick. Sammy hadn't moved since she had sat down in the chair, her breathing now deep and even, and he assumed she had fallen asleep.

Peter shifted on the bed, the movement drawing the country man's attention. "Daryl." His eyes landed on the man sitting at the back of the room, and Daryl relaxed slightly at the fact that he was still alive. "She won't go back to the house, so... Could you throw a blanket over her or something?" It was strange, how much the blond seemed to fuss over his friend's safety, despite the fact that he himself was on his deathbed. But, the man complied with the request.

Daryl silently got up and walked over. He grabbed the throw blanket that rested at the end of the bed and placed it over the girl in the chair. Sammy's head moved slightly, her eyes wide and attentive as they locked onto him.

"Why don't you head home?" Daryl suggested. His voice was quiet and rough, drained from the day's events. "Get some rest."

"I said I would kill him when he turned," the girl reminded him, her voice just as quiet. She looked down at the sword propped against her chair, ready to be used at a moment's notice. "I'm not going to put the others in danger, I'll make sure it gets done."

Daryl watched her silently. When her eyes lifted to meet his again, he felt the need to reach out and comfort her. But he restrained himself and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he stood up straight, making his way back to his spot with nothing more than a nod of understanding.

It wasn't until Rick came in to the room that Daryl was dismissed. He left, his crossbow hanging leisurely over his shoulder. He looked to the sky, the golden glow to the west signifying the sun was setting. He made a b line for the gate, planning to make a quick stop before going to get some rest.

Sammy still didn't move much after the other man joined them. Peter didn't sit up, but he offered a smile to the town's sheriff.

"How you doing?" Rick asked, his voice gruff. He sounded like he regretted having to ask the words.

"Decent," Peter replied, like he just had the common cold. "Sore. My shoulder hurts like a bitch, and I think I still have a bit of a fever. But, all things considered, I don't feel too bad."

Rick nodded slowly, but even he could see how much the boy was suffering. He seemed to have silently accepted his fate and wanted to make the best of whatever time he had left. Rick almost felt bad for pulling out the pair of handcuffs he brought with him.

"Don't." Sammy's voice broke the silence, stopping Rick from even suggesting what she knew he was about to. "Those aren't necessary."

"Handcuffs," Peter interrupted her friend, a lightly playful tone in his tired voice as he lifted one hand, on the opposite side of the bed from where Sammy sat. "Kinky. Tie me up, Hottie."

Sammy couldn't hold the laugh, but even that sound was rather pathetic to her own ears. Rick could feel the heat travel up his neck, but he didn't say anything as he went to handcuff one of Peter's hands to the bed.

"I really don't want to take the chance of infecting anyone," Peter informed him, not resisting. "If I didn't think Sammy would go on a rampage, I'd ask you to just put me down." He turned his tight smile toward Sammy. "Crazy bat just won't let me die..."

"You're damn right," the girl replied, eyes burning intensely despite the playful smile that lightly pulled at her lips. "You don't get to die before me, remember? Besides, you've always been different. Why should I expect you to die like everyone else would in this situation. I won't give up hope until the last breath leaves your body and you come back as a zombie."

Rick chuckled quietly. He nodded in understanding, remembering when he had done the same thing with Herschel when the elderly man had been bitten. He kept fighting and hoping, and the man had lost a leg but he had survived. But this situation was different, he knew. There was no hope to be had, and still, this girl fought against everything to preserve her friend's life. "Thank you," Rick said, speaking mostly to Peter, but making sure to spare a glance toward Sammy. He had to admire the girl's perseverance, if nothing else. "For being so cooperative through all of this."

"Of course," Peter laughed out. "You're good people. Most of the people here, really. I just hope that..." He looked up to the ceiling, his arm dangling slightly in its restraint. "I hope nothing happens..."

Sammy sat up from her chair, grabbing what was left of the vodka and handing it to Peter. The boy took the bottle, but just stared at it as Sammy sat by his feet on the bed. "It'll help with the pain," Sammy assured him, patting his leg. Peter caved in eventually, sitting up a bit to take a long drink. He pulled the bottle away from his lips with a hard sigh, handing it back to Sammy, who put it away. Peter fell back onto the bed again with another sigh, closing his eyes as the haze clouded his mind and dulled the roaring pain that spread from his wounded shoulder.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"Get some more sleep, if you need it," Sammy said as she patted the boy's leg once more before moving back to her chair and playing with the hilt of her sword absently.

"I'm fine," Peter insisted with a small smile. But, no one spoke after that. Eventually, the silence was filled with the boy's soft snores.

"Flowers," Sammy stared, breaking the silence between her and Rick with her hoarse voice. She cleared her throat when the man gave her a questioning look. "Peter likes flowers. If you... If you find some at any point, could you..."

Rick nodded, understanding the question before she finished it. "If I come across any, I'll bring 'em here," he promised.

"Thanks." Sammy gave him a small smile. "And sorry. For trying to stab you earlier.

Rick felt the spot on his neck that her blade had just nicked. He nodded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Do it again, and I'll shoot you." The threat just drew a bitter laugh from the girl.

"If I'm dumb enough do it a second time, then I deserve a bullet to the head," she conceded, not able to meet the man's eye.


	34. Chapter 34

_Chapter thirty-four: Death_

 _Death is an inevitable truth in life. People die all the time. Since the beginning of time, when the average human lifespan was roughly 30 years, up to just a year prior when some people lived well into their hundreds. It's only a matter of time before everyone runs out of time._

* * *

Two days. It had been two days since the day that Peter had been bitten. His fever had gotten worse, his face flushed and his body always covered in a cold layer of sweat. But he was still alive, and the bite looked like it was healing well. No infection, minimal swelling, and the wound had scabbed over.

Sammy was running on empty, though. She refused to sleep the entire time, very adamant on being the one to kill Peter when he turned. She was never alone, though. Rick, Michonne and Daryl switched out so that there was always an extra person. Just in case. The girl's stomach had been too uneasy to manage eating more than a few bites of something a day. Peter nagged at her about it every once in a while, but he never had the energy to argue with the girl on her choices.

Daryl had just shown up for the afternoon shift, taking over for Michonne. The woman left silently as Daryl approached the bed. No one noticed the light purple flowers he was carrying until he set them on the night stand. "These're for Pete," he said quietly, glancing at the sick boy in the bed. "Rick told me to bring 'em up. Said you liked flowers."

Peter laughed breathlessly, reaching to grab one of the flowers. He looked at the plant, a light smile on his face. "Thanks," he said. "And tell Rick I says thanks, too..."

Daryl nodded before turning and facing Sammy. He pulled something out of his pocket and held the bag of chocolates out to her. "These are for you," he said, his voice a bit quieter. It was silent for a second before Sammy grabbed the offered candy, a soft thanks on her lips. She took a piece of the chocolate and nibbled at it, the silence settling back in.

Daryl stood beside Sammy's chair, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stared at the boy on the bed. "How's he doin'?" he asked, looking down to Sammy for an answer.

Sammy looked less than hopeful, eyes not leaving her blond friend. "The wound's healing, but he's getting sicker."

Daryl placed his hand on top of her head, the small gesture all he could give in the way of comfort. Sammy sent him a small smile, as if silently thanking him. She held the bag of chocolates to the man, but he denied the offer. "Indulge yourself, Darlin'." He had taken to calling her the nickname, but her cheeks didn't light up the way they did before at it.

Hours passed in a strained silence, none of the occupants feeling up to starting a conversation. Sammy's head kept bobbing up and down as she fought to stay awake. She stood up after a while of nearly failing the fight against one of her most basic needs, pacing the room to keep her active. Rick entered the room silently, and she barely spared the man a glance.

"Sammy," Peter called. Sammy quickly stopped her pacing, rushing to the boy's side. "Go home. Sleep."

"But-"

Peter didn't let her finish. "And take a shower. You smell awful."

Sammy chuckled, the protest dying on her lips. "Who'll watch over you, then?"

"I can handle it," Rick said with sincerity in his voice. "You go rest. He'll be safe, and so will the rest of the community."

"Yeah, okay," Sammy gave in, her voice tired as she scratched her head. A shower sounded good right now, at the very least. And her body wouldn't run much longer without sleep. She knew her limits, and she was fast approaching them.

Rick nodded toward Daryl. "Make sure she gets home okay."

"I don't need a baby sitter," the girl mumbled, but didn't protest further when the country man followed her out of the quarantine building and escorted her back home. Daniel was the only one at the house when they arrived; Sammy didn't know where Abigail had gone off to, and she couldn't bring herself to care at the moment. She silently pushed her way passed the boy and into the master bedroom, disappearing into the bathroom that was connected.

Daryl stopped at the door as Daniel stood in his path. The look on the boy's face was almost comical to the country man; his shoulders were squared, and his eyes were narrowed. He looked like he was trying to be intimidating.

"I wanna make sure she's okay," Daryl explained after the other man made no move to step aside. "Maybe get her to sleep some before she heads back to look after Peter."

"I can manage it," Daniel said, going to close the door. Daryl put his foot in the way to stop it from shutting in his face. He pushed the barrier open with one hand, easily over powering the younger man and opening the door again as Daniel took a step back. He looked intimidated now at the rugged country man looming over him.

"I said I wanna do it." Daryl's voice didn't leave room for argument, and Daniel didn't try to stop him this time as he went into the master bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

The boy just glared slightly after him before shutting the front door and heading into the living room. Close enough, so he could hear if he needed to intervene. He didn't trust the backwater man as far as he could throw him, and it was unnerving to know he was alone in the same room as Sammy.

Daryl made himself comfortable, kicking off his shoes and laying back on the bed, his feet hanging over the edge and his crossbow leaning against the side of the bed he had stolen. The water started in the bathroom, and Daryl put his hands behind his head as he listened. A few seconds in, the girl stared singing as she showered. Daryl closed his eyes and listened as her voice rang out in the silence. He didn't recognize the sorrowful tune she sang, and it didn't really seem like his kind of music, but he had to admit that she had a beautiful voice. He must have drifted off for a few minutes, because the next thing he heard was the click of the bathroom door opening. He turned his groggy gaze toward the noise, steam filtering out of the bathroom as Sammy stepped out. Droplets of water trailed down her her bare arms and legs still and her bangs clung to her face in their dampened state. Her eyes landed on Daryl, and they widened in surprise as the man stared back at her in return.

"What're you..?" Her face burned in embarrassment, holding the towel tighter around her body. Her eyes narrowed sightly as Daryl seemed to drink in the sight. "Turn away, you pervert."

Daryl smirked slightly at her angry tone. He let his eyes linger despite her protest. "I ain't seen that nice of a view in a long time, though," he argued, tongue darting out slightly to swipe along his bottom lip. "So, what if I wanna look?"

The girl huffed out a quick, derogatory insult toward the man, making sure nothing was showing as she went to her stash of clothing. She threw a t-shirt on, the hem reaching down to mid thigh, before she let the towel fall to the floor around her feet.

Daryl continued staring, his eyes wider now at her boldness; or maybe she just didn't have the energy to care. She pulled on underwear and shorts, her shirt lifting just enough to give him a glimpse more than he was anticipating. His heartbeat was erratic and, even though he hadn't really seen much, he was more excited by the blanks that his mind filled in. He drew in a deep breath, willing his heart to slow down; now was neither the time nor the place for those thoughts. When Sammy sat at the foot of the bed beside him, he pushed himself to sit up and looked at her face now. Her hazel eyes were dark and unfocused as she stared ahead, the bags below them a deep purple.

Daryl rested a hand on her knee; the move might not have felt as sensual if it weren't for the skin on skin contact. Sammy turned her head so she could look him in the eye, and he went to pull his hand away, but she grabbed it before it got far. Her eyes didn't leave his as she wrapped her fingers around his. She didn't care how he felt about her, how she felt about him, or what they might have meant to each other. None of that mattered right now, she just needed to be close to someone. And Daryl found he was glad that he was the someone that was with her right now.

He wrapped his other arm around her, and Sammy didn't hesitate to bury her face into his chest. She breathed in the musky scent of nature and cigarette smoke that clung to his clothes. He pulled her closer as he fell back onto the bed again, a hint of strawberries reaching his nose from her shampoo. Sammy wrapped her arms around the man's torso, grabbing at the back of the material of his sleeveless shirt. It was silent for several lingering seconds. Daryl had almost fallen back asleep when Sammy's quiet voice grabbed his attention.

"You ever thought about getting a haircut?" She pushed herself up slightly, releasing him in favor looking down at him with her intense, but tired eyes. He just returned the look. He had thought about it, but wasn't sure if he trusted anyone near his head with a sharp object. When her fingers ran through his hair, nails brushing along the scalp of his head, he closed his eyes at the touch. It felt blissfully nice, the way she was touching him, and he couldn't bring himself to stop her. "That one girl, Jessie? She gave me a decent cut." His eyes opened again to meet hers, the communication silent with just that look. "Or, I can can cut it, if you'd like."

He hummed in approval at her offer and pulled her back down, resting his head against her chest. The large, supple breasts pressed warmly against his cheek through the shirt, and he sighed, content to just lay their with his face pressed into her chest; when she didn't protest the use of her chest as a pillow, he didn't make any attempt to move. "Later," he muttered. "I wanna sleep now. And you need to sleep, too."

"You a cuddler?" Sammy teased, though she merely curled her body into his, comfortable in the awkward embrace. "Never would have expected you were the type..."

"Shuddup," the country man grumbled. He ran his hand lightly along her spine, her body arching slightly in retaliation. "Maybe I just like your tits. Ain't a thing."

A quiet giggle escaped the girl, but she soon fell silent. She closed her eyes but, despite her fatigue, sleep eluded her. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly in hopes that it would help clear her mind. It did not.

"Daryl?" she whispered, voice slurring slightly in her sleepy state.

Daryl huffed in response, contemplating whether or not he should answer. "What?" he questioned after a moment of silence, deciding to indulge her.

"I'm sorry..."

The words gave him pause. He tilted his head slightly, giving the woman a confused look. "For what?"

"The other day," Sammy muttered, not opening her eyes. "The kiss... I shouldn't have done that."

Daryl chewed on his lip nervously, examining the girl's face for several silent moments. "Why'd you do it then?"

Her eyes fluttered open slightly to meet his gaze. It was her turn to look at him in confusion. "Do you legitimately want an answer to that question?"

He shrugged lightly, planting his face back in Sammy's chest. "Ain't gotta answer it if you don't wanna."

"I'm too tired to really care either way," the girl muttered, curling her body tighter until her forehead rested against the top of Daryl's head. "I guess I read the signals wrong. And you're extremely attractive, so my hormones got the better of me."

Daryl scoffed incredulously. "Yeah right."

Sammy shifted slightly, resting a hand atop the man's head as she gently scraped her fingers against his scalp. "You can't tell me you don't see just how hot you are. You've gotta be the sexiest thing since sliced bread."

He scoffed again, face warming at the odd compliment. "I think you need to go to sleep, Sammy."

The girl breathed out a quiet laugh, her breath brushing over the man's face; he couldn't be too upset over the warm gust of air that held a minty fresh scent. She fell silent, and Daryl once again closed his eyes. The shifting of her body kept him from sleep, still, and he tried not to be annoyed with the woman.

"One last thing." The words were barely a whisper on her lips, and Daryl released a quiet sigh. "Thank you."

"What for?" he grumbled, not bothering to lift his face from its warm haven this time.

"For not running away," Sammy answered, voice fading. "For being here with me... For being my friend... I'm glad I didn't scare you away with my stupidity..." She was glad to have the man in her life, now more than ever. She felt as though he was a kindred soul; like he understood her on a level that she had never expect anyone to understand her. Even if he didn't return her feelings, even if she wasn't allowed to kiss him or hold him whenever she pleased, she didn't want to lose him. The fact that he had decided to stick by her side through this turmoil spoke volumes of the man's true character; he wasn't going to abandon her in her time of need just because she stupidly made a move on him.

He squeezed her slightly, that being the only real response he gave to the thanks. She understood the silent gesture well enough; _don't mention it_ _, now go the fuck to sleep._

Sammy allowed the smile to tug at the corners of her mouth as she closed her eyes. Both parties drifted to sleep quickly in their exhausted states. Neither stayed asleep for very long, though.

Murmurs woke Daryl first. He groggily opened his eyes, assessing his surroundings. Sammy stirred in his arms, incoherent words barely passing through her lips. She looked scared, and Daryl didn't think twice as he ran his fingers gently through her hair, shushing her sleeping form quietly. Her eyes shot open with a gasp for breath, and it took her a moment to realize that she wasn't in danger.

"S'ok, Darlin'," Daryl murmured softly to her, his voice rough with sleep. "I'm right here..."

"I... I need to," Sammy babbled, prying herself from the man's grasp and standing, looking around for her shoes. "I need to go," she finally managed, slipping on her boots with slight difficulty as she made her way to the door. "I need to check on Petey." She didn't know why that was the first thing that came to mind upon awakening. Maybe it was the strange dreams that had plagued her short nap, or perhaps recharging her battery a little was all that she needed for the guilt to rear its ugly head in realization that she was not suffering beside him. Either way she couldn't ignore the despair that clutched at her chest.

"Okay, it's okay," came Daryl's reply as he slipped his shoes on and followed after the hysterical girl. "Rick's there, he'll do whatever needs to be done." He grabbed her hand gently as he caught up with her at the door, stopping her in her tracks. "We'll go, but you need to breath." He saw the beads of sweat that formed on her brow, and the way that she still seemed to be fighting for a full breath of air. She obeyed his words as she intertwined their fingers. Her breathing got slower and deeper in the seconds that followed, and then she pulled him after her, the door slamming shut behind them.

Daniel started into consciousness at the noise, sitting up on the couch. He rubbed his eyes, watching the two other occupants rushing out the front door. He got up and hurried after them, but they had already vanished by the time he reached the front door. The man briefly contemplated following him, knowing that Sammy undoubtedly planned to return to Peter's side, but he decided against it. No one wanted him there anyway, and he was content to stay out of the depressing quarantine room with the dying boy and the grieving woman. He instead shuffled back to the couch, collapsing on the cushions and quickly falling back into his slumber.

Upon Sammy and Daryl's arrival they spotted Peter's body, convulsing spastically as he gasped for breath. Rick stood over the boy, body tense as he panicked over what to do. Sammy ripped herself from Daryl's side, practically shoving Rick out of her way to stand beside her friend. Panic was clearly visible in her wide eyes, but she tried to stay calm for the boy. She gently rolled him onto his side, hands trembling as she waited the episode out with the knowledge that there was nothing more she could do.

"Get the doctor," she ordered. The urgency in her voice made Daryl dash out of the room to do as she said.

All she could do was wait as the seizure passed. When the boy's body stopped moving, she quickly checked his vitals. His heart had stopped, and he wasn't breathing. Fear clutched at Sammy's heart, but she pushed it away as she rolled him back onto his back and locked her hands together over his chest, starting the rhythmic compressions. The lessons from her high school health class flooded back into her memory as she worked, though she had never performed CPR before on a living human. She prayed she was doing it right.

Daryl returned with the doctor, practically dragging him into the room. The man tried to catch his breath as he rushed to the other side of the bed. Sammy gave him room, and he took over her actions. Dread clutched at her chest when she realized she hadn't been doing it right.

A minute passed, and there was no response from the body on the bed. The doctor pulled away, tired as he shook his head. "He's gone."

* * *

 _Don't give up, though. Never give up. No matter how rough the waters get, or how painful it is to wake up every morning and keep going. You keep going for them. You lost a loved one, and now you have to live twice as much to make up for the world losing someone great._

 _Keep surviving._

* * *

 **R.I.P. ;w;**


	35. Chapter 35

**UUUURRRGH... So, I just wanna explain something real quick. Part of the reason for my hiatus on this story. After some further research on the characters, I rewrote one of thr chapters: the "Tell It to the Froggies" chapter. Originally, I had written it so thag Daryl made the first move, then, realizing that it would have been terribly out of character for him, I changed it so that Sammy did instead. Without realizing how much that particular event effected Daryl's behavior in eve** **ry prewritten chapters that followed! I've been trying to rewrite all of these chapters to match up with that, but short of rewriting the entirety of the following story - which is what I had attempted during my hiatus but never actually had the time or energy to do so - Daryl's behavior seems odd in these following chapters. When/if I edit this story, it's likely that a lot of these chapters are going to be completely replaced. So keep all that in mind while reading this! Don't judge too harshly, as it is very difficult for my perfectionist side to allow me to post all these chapters (and the alternative is another long ass hiatus while I attempt to fix them...) ;w;**

 **With that out in the open now...**

 **Enjoy the story~!**

* * *

 _Chapter thirty-five: Miracles_

 _I don't know whether there are any deities out there; personally, I've never been a believer, myself. I do know, however, that sometimes things happen that can't be explained. Like the zombie virus spreading throughout the world; how the fuck did that happen? And, sometimes, good things happen. I personally don't care to know how the good things happen, I just know that, when they do, you should treasure them._

* * *

Sammy refused to accept the answer the doctor gave her. Anger bubbled up inside her as she started pumping Peter's chest again. "You son of a bitch, you don't get to leave me that easily," she hissed at the body. She plugged his nose and blew air into his lungs before going to continue pumping. "We're in this together!" She was yelling now, tears stinging her eyes. "You can't die before me, so get your ass back here!"

"Sammy," Rick called to the girl. But she ignored him, continuing what she was doing.

Daryl reached out and touched her arm, but she pushed him away as the tears spilled from her eyes, not stopping her compressions. "I have to save him," she said quietly, her head dipping. "I can't let him die. Not because of me." Her body slouched over slightly, and her movements slowed as her mind seemed to tell her to just give up already. She didn't want to give up on him; he had been by her side through so much. He had been her anchor through rough times, and they shared so many good memories. The thought of just letting him die here made her physically ill.

The body below her suddenly gasped, a pale hand shooting out to grab Sammy. Daryl ripped her away from Peter's grasp, and a click sounded through the room as Rick pulled back the hammer on his Python, aiming the barrel at the blond's head. The arm dropped to the body's sides, and wide, blue eyes stared around the room in confusion.

"Sammy?" Peter gasped out, confusion ringing clear in his voice. A quiet relief flooded the room, and Sammy broke free to hug her friend. No one voiced their questions on how he was still alive, they just gawked, basking in the miracle that it was as Sammy cried in joy and crushed the boy in a hug. Everyone still had their obvious reservations; it was just dumb luck that he hadn't come back a zombie. It was only a matter of time before it happened.

* * *

The next few days, Sammy wouldn't leave the room again. But, after another day had passed; day three in total since the boy had been bitten; and Peter's condition only seeming to improve, she allowed herself to sleep when someone else was in the room with them.

By day five, Peter's fever had nearly disappeared. He was eating full meals, talking and joking more. The group honestly believed he was going to make it. No one understood _how_ or _why._ They had never seen a person recover from a bite; even a minuscule bite had still always lead to death. Somehow, though, Peter was pulling through from the brink of death.

On day six, Peter tried to get them to let him out of the restraints and roam freely around town. The doctor suggested at least another day on bed rest; he was allowed to take a shower and change into clean clothes, but he was bound back in the bed immediately afterward. Sammy, trusting Rick and Michonne to keep her little brother safe while she was away, decided to join Daryl for another hunt in hopes of being useful to the community again after having done nothing for nearly a week.

She had a silenced pistol on a holster strapped to her hip, opposite of her sword. Two long range weapons would be better than one between them, and Sammy needed to practice her aim. She was also looking forward to practicing her tracking. So, she walked silently beside Daryl, her weapon in its holster and her hand on the handle. The man seemed to be in a good mood that day, a relaxed look on his usually stern face.

"You look happy today," Sammy stated out of the blue, causing Daryl to turn to her with a questioning look. "I mean, you usually look so stone-faced and serious." She made a face, frowning deeply and pulling her brows together as she tried to copy the expression he usually had. She then offered him a smile. "But today, you look more relaxed."

"Yeah, well..." Daryl kicked lightly at the dirt under his boots, a quiet chuckle on his lips as he let the teasing jab slide. "It's hard to be in a bad mood when you just witnessed a miracle." He looked at Sammy, the girl's eyes soft and happy, and his stomach fluttered. "Pete should'a died. We both know it. Hell, he _did_ die, but... Here he is. Because you refused to give up, that boy's still alive." He had stopped, turning to look at the girl in wonder.

"It's really nothing special," the girl said bashfully as she avoided his eye. "Petey's a fighter. Like me. Like you." Her eyes locked onto his, and she found that she couldn't bring herself to pull them away again. His intense gaze held a different quality today, something she had never seen in them before. Something she couldn't quite place. "Any one else would have done the same in my position, I'm sure. And after all he's done for me, the least I could do for him is never give up."

Daryl just watched her for a moment. He doubted that anyone else would have performed CPR, risking their own life after the boy was clearly gone. Anyone else would sooner shoot a bitten man than try to nurse them back to health; even Daryl could admit that he would have once done that exact thing. He took a step closer to her, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Nah, what you did..." His voice was soft, desperate for this amazing woman to see herself the way that he saw her in that moment. "What you did was incredible. You saved a deadman's life, Sammy. You're... You're..." He couldn't think of a word good enough to describe how he saw her. But the red that stained her cheeks told him that he got his point across well enough.

"Don't get all mushy on me, Dixon," she joked, deciding to continue on, tapping her shoulder against his as she passed him, and lead the way as she scanned the area for traces of animals. "This is not the time or place for that." Daryl just lowered his head a bit, a quiet laugh escaping his lips before he followed after the girl.

When he approached her, he rubbed a hand over her head. She was lacking her usual cap today, and the strands of hair that brushed the man's fingers were soft to the touch. "You're pretty damn awesome, Sammy," Daryl said the words quietly as he pulled away. He walked on, crouching down on the ground to get a good look at something he had spotted. Or maybe it was just an excuse to hide the blush that he couldn't quite fight off after paying her the compliment.

"You're gonna give me a swollen head," the girl joked, laughing breathlessly as she watched Daryl work. She wasn't sure if she could risk leaving the compound with the man any more. His flirting and flattery were starting to get to her, and his looks alone were more than enough to distract the girl; she had to wonder if he did it on purpose, but every time she started thinking that way, he would do or say something that made her realize he had no idea how much he effected her. But, she just took a deep breath to calm her nerves, and she followed the man's lead to continue looking for tracks.

"Hey, I have a question," Sammy stated suddenly, remembering what had actually caused the first domino to crash down on the chain reaction that had been the last week. Daryl spared her a quick glance, as though giving her permission to ask. "My notebook. Why'd you show it to the mayor?"

Daryl turned his gaze back to Sammy, sitting on the balls of his feet as he looked at her. Her lips were pressed together, and he realized she was irritated with what he had done. "I thought it would help her pick out a job for you," Daryl answered truthfully as he stood up, keeping his eyes trained on Sammy as he crossed his arms defensively against her obvious irritation. "I remember when I first got here. Everyone else in my group eventually got assigned a job and, when I still wasn't given one after a week... I dunno, I felt a bit..." He shrugged and looked away, trying not to show the painful emotions that the memory brought. Like he was useless; like he had fallen back into being a nobody, after everything he had done to earn his place in the group.

"Excluded?" Sammy offered, a soft laugh on her lips. He didn't answer, looking slightly uncomfortable as he shifted his stance. She grabbed his hand, drawing his eyes back to her as she patted it lightly. "I can appreciate the sentiment, at least." She grinned up at the man in understanding. "You know, she tried to make me a radio host. Told me to _'share some of my tips and tricks'_ and _'draw in new residence'._ " She shook her head and laughed at the idea.

Daryl didn't know why she was laughing. He thought it would be perfect for her, sitting in a room all day. Safe behind the community walls. She would never have to worry about getting hurt by the zombies again, and that thought alone stirred something up in the man. "Why don't you take it?" he asked.

"What?" Sammy laughed out, looking at him like he was crazy. When he didn't falter, her smile faded. "Seriously?" She shook her head. "Daryl, I... I couldn't do a job like that..." She stuffed her hands in her pockets and watched his reaction intensely.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice almost pleading. "It'd be a good job for you. You could probably help a lot of people survive."

"How many people do you know that own a radio anymore?" she questioned, her brows furrowing together. He couldn't be serious. He shrugged in return and looked away, sensing he was quickly losing the argument.

"I dunno, but... At least you would be safe." He turned to her, a strange look in his eye that the girl couldn't quite identify.

"You don't know me very well, Daryl," she said quietly, a soft laugh on her lips. She shook her head. "Safety is what kills me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He sounded somewhere between confused and angry. "You're saying you'd rather be out here, risking your life? You wanna get bitten by one of those walkers? Turn, just like every fuckin' idiot that chooses this life over safety?" He had lost so many people, traveling around and doing dangerous, unavoidable things for the sake of survival. He had almost died himself, more times than he could keep track of. He didn't like the idea of her sharing that same fate.

"No, it's not like that," Sammy protested weakly, looking at the man with pleading eyes. She shook her head and turned away. "I don't think it's something you would understand."

"Then explain it to my, Sammy," he asked, his voice raising slightly.

"You... you need to shut up, Daryl." Her voice was quiet and urgent, but her words stabbed at him and only fueled the anger that was starting to build.

"Oh, I need to shut up?" he hissed. Sammy wasn't in the mood to try to talk the man out of his anger. She was obviously failing at that, at any rate, so she pressed her hand against his mouth to silence him. She looked around, her pupils pinpoints against the off-green of her irises. Daryl finally seemed to understand as he heard the rustling and crunching of leaves nearby, and he mentally degraded himself for having missed something so important. He grabbed the woman's hand, pulling it down and holding onto it for longer than necessary as his eyes carefully scanned the area. His head quickly snapped towards another noise, and both Sammy and Daryl froze at what stared them down.

The four-legged creature growled at them, the fur on the back of its neck standing on end. Sammy took sharp breath, the yellow eyes locking onto her as she slowly released the air form her lungs. Daryl slowly pushed Sammy back, standing himself between the predator and the woman. The creature growled again as the two tried to back away, effectively stopping them.

"What do we do?" Sammy whispered, her hand absently brushing her hip for the gun that rested there. If she was fast enough, she could kill the canine before it got to them. But, the chances were slim at the close proximity.

Daryl seemed to have a plan. He puffed out his chest a bit and stared the creature down, trying to look bigger and more intimidating. He started shouting out at it, and the canine started to back away slowly. When the growling of walkers could be heard approaching, the animal turned and fled as quickly as it had appeared.

"C'mon," Daryl ordered gruffly, grabbing Sammy's hand and pulling her along behind him as he headed back toward camp. He didn't feel like dealing with a horde right now, and the camp wasn't in dire need of food any time soon. Sammy could only bring herself to stare at the southern man in awe as he led her to safety.

"And you think I'm the amazing one," she breathed out with a laugh as they drew closer to the camp. "You were brave, and daring. Chivalrous. A true gentleman." She said the words with a laugh on her lip, her tone almost joking, but the blush that spread over the man's face made her giggle quietly.

"Shuddup," the man muttered, clearly embarrassed despite his attempts to hide it.

"See, I think you should let me call you _Dare_ ," Sammy pushed, more encouraged by the man's flustered response. He paused for a moment after opening the gate, and Sammy walked in passed him. He shut the gate before turning back to her, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Jus' shut up," he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stared down at her. The look in his eyes told the girl that he was just too embarrassed to give her permission. So, she smiled, taking that as all the permission she needed.

"Alright, then, Dare," she said cheekily, staring up into his eyes as her stomach fluttered wildly.

His eyes narrowed in return, and his body seemed to lean in closer to hers. "Just drop it already, will ya?"

Sammy stared after the man in as Daryl turned on his heel and walked away. She shook her head in disbelief, telling herself that the signals she was picking up were only in her head. As much as her feet wanted to carry her after him, she knew she should check on her friend's condition. So, instead of following the stoic southerner, she headed to the house that Peter was still being quarantined in.

* * *

 _Miracles will never cease to surprise you. Sometimes, they happen randomly, and sometimes, you have to make them happen. You can't always just sit back and do what you're told, you have to do things for yourself._

 _Go make a miracle, Survivors!_

* * *

 ** _Pfft._ Yeah. Like I could kill Petey off. Honestly, who thought that was for rizzle? It's not like I'm George RR Martin! I find joy in making others happy, not tears of the innocent! _Hold your questions, all will be explained in time._ I mean, you're free to comment with your questions, but don't expect a legit answer from me~ ^^;  
**


	36. Chapter 36

**This is by far my favorite chapter yet. :3 I actually wrote it fairly recently, after some later chapters that had been prewritten, so I think it reads smoother and portrays the characters better~ nwn  
**

 **For the record, it's been a while since I watched this particular season of TWD that the story is in (season 5 I think?), nor do I feel the desire to do so any time soon, so I apologize for any chronological errors on things such as when certain characters come in in relation to one another/other's deaths... IT'S A FANFIC JUST BE GRATEFUL I'M NOT COPYING THE SHOW WORD FOR WORD LOL.**

 **Hope you all enjoy~**

* * *

Sammy was bored out of her mind. Her two best friends had gone off on adventure without her. Peter had left on a supply run earlier that day while Sammy was still sleeping, Abigail and Glenn in tow, and Daryl had left a few days prior with Aaron to scout for new recruits. Carl was nowhere to be found; she noticed he had taken to disappearing with the new girl, Enid, and Sammy wasn't about to get in the way of the budding puppy love. Even Daniel seemed to have more pressing matters that involved staying far away from Sammy, though the girl didn't count his absence a great loss.

Of course, with no one to occupy her time, Sammy had to find other ways to keep herself entertained. While on the road, it had been fairly easy; she would find enjoyment in a song or a traveling game, and when that failed the scenery that she encountered had captivated her. Her desert life was long behind her, though, and greenery and life were less fascinating than they had been when she started her travels. The sights of Alexandria were something she had grown accustomed to. And, behind the safety of the walls, she felt the least safe belting out the lyrics to her favorite songs. Her alternative: taking watch duty at the gates.

So there she was, perched atop one of the makeshift watchtowers by the front gates. Bored beyond belief as she stared out onto the empty road. The most movement she had seen in the last three hours was the rustling of leaves every time they caught a slight breeze; as _exciting_ as that was, it grew old after about the twentieth time.

Eyes drooping, she leaned against the fence. The unsanded wood that dug into her forearms helped to keep her from dozing off while on watch, but only so much. She sunk slowly lower until her chin rested on her arms, a yawn passing her lips.

Then, she spotted movement in the distance. Instantly alert, she pushed herself up and grabbed the hunting rifle leaning beside her. Squinting against the broiling sun, she waited while the figure came into view.

There were three; instantly, she recognized Daryl's form beside the other two bodies. She quickly made out a second figure to be Aaron. The third man with dark skin and a walking stick was unfamiliar to her, but she felt he wasn't a threat; after all, Daryl wouldn't have brought the stranger back with him if he deemed him a threat. He would sooner risk his own safety than endanger his family within the settlement. Daryl was good like that.

Sammy offered a short wave to the trio, feeling the relieve flood through her at their safe return. She was fond of Aaron, she had to admit; the guy was so sweet, and even more so he was always open and honest. And, even with the sting of rejection fresh in her mind, Sammy couldn't quell the deep affection she held for the country man. She always worried relentlessly when any of her friends stepped outside the gate, though she had long since learned to tune out the thoughts of doubt that plagued her mind in their absence. It did no good to worry when she could do nothing.

"Hey," Sammy called down to the nameless face that stood guard on the ground. She had been introduced to the man once, but the name eluded her. "Daryl and Aaron are back. Looks like they got a new recruit."

The man gave a short nod in response, standing and going to pull open the barrier to the outside world. While Sammy was excited to greet her friends on the ground, she knew better than to abandon her post. She merely leaned over the fence as they neared, beaming a smile down at them.

"Welcome back!" she greeted, her unspoken relief at their return shining through as clear as the grin on her face.

The look that Daryl sent up at her sent a chill down Sammy's spine. He looked worn down, the creases at the corner of his eyes seeming deeper with worry. Something was off. Pulling back, Sammy looked around for a replacement. Seeing a familiar face roaming nearby, she called out.

"Hey, Sasha? You busy?"

The woman squinted up at her, lips pressed into a tight line. "Not really. You need something?"

"Can you take over my post for a bit? I need to take care of something."

With a reluctant nod of acceptance, the two women swapped places. Sammy practically leaped off the ladder in her descent, shooting Sasha a grateful smile.

"Thanks," she voiced as the woman climbed up to take over. "I owe you one."

With a short wave, Sammy approached the gate as the men entered. Her full attention was soon on Daryl, and the man seemed to reciprocate with a strange urgency in his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" Sammy questioned as she came to a stop in front of the man, voice low and eyebrows drawn together in worry.

"I need to talk to ya'," Daryl answered, sounding nervous. He shifted his stance slightly, grabbing the strap of his crossbow as though it was grounding him to the earth. With a shifty glance toward Aaron and the stranger, both of whom continued walking without him, Sammy felt herself go into high alert. "Alone," the man added, eyes not meeting Sammy's again as he started walking.

Sammy took a deep breath as she followed, her pace quick to keep up with his long strides. "Daryl?" she questioned, voice faltering slightly. His demeanor was starting to scare her. Was the newcomer bad news? Had Daryl come across a bigger threat during his mission? She couldn't fathom what had the man so worked up, but she knew it couldn't be good.

After several minutes of what seemed like aimlessly wandering around Alexandria, Daryl finally came to a halt. Sammy took in their surroundings: they were on the far end of the settlement, behind one of the houses. There was no one in the vicinity, and her eyes landed back on the country man as she tried not to jump to conclusions about his news.

Daryl couldn't meet her eye for longer than a second. His thumb soon found its way to his mouth, and he chewed absently on the skin as he took in the repetitive pattern on the back wall of the house they stood beside. He didn't know how to breach the subject, but he had decided it was something he needed to say. After sitting in that car, surrounded by walkers. So sure that he was going to die. He _needed_ to do this.

"Daryl..." Sammy's soft voice broke through his thoughts, and blue eyes met green. "Daryl, please talk to me."

He took a deep breath to steady the thundering of his heart against his chest. "I wanna try somethin'," he stated, silently cursing the light tremor in his voice. He felt so pathetic, but Sammy just gazed up at him with big, curious eyes. No judgment or ridicule. The look gave him a little bit of courage, and that was all he needed to continue.

"I wanna try something, and I don't want you to move while I do."

Now she was staring up at him with worry. He bit his lip, stomach churning slightly. He really didn't like when she looked at him like that.

"And close your eyes," he added, almost as an after thought.

Sammy's eyes widened slightly at the order. "Huh?"

"Ya heard me," Daryl huffed, averting his gaze. "I can't do it with ya starin' up at me like that."

Sammy swallowed hard, stomach twisting in knots at the rush of emotions running through her. She was so confused; what was he going to do? She had a few ideas, but none of them seemed like something he would do. She knew he would never hit her; she desperately hoped she was right on that account. As much as she hoped for it, she knew better than to expect a kiss from the man. The only other thing that came to mind was a prank. Was Daryl the type to pull a prank on an unsuspecting girl?

"I'm trusting you," Sammy managed to say passed the cluster of nerves that tried to steal away her voice. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she clenched her eyes shut. "I'm trusting you to not do anything cruel..."

Daryl's heart dropped slightly at that, his gaze returned to the girl before him. He observed her for a moment. The way her fists clenched at her sides, and her shoulders tensed. The way mouth moved slightly in anticipation of whatever was to come. The way her eyebrows would draw together slightly before she forced them to relax, only to repeat the process. Daryl realized that she felt just as scared as he did, and the thought gave him an odd peace of mind.

Lifting his hand slowly, Daryl brushed his fingers against Sammy's cheek. The girl flinched slightly at the touch, and Daryl froze as she lifted her head. Her eyes peeked open for a split second, but she quickly screwed them back shut with a hard swallow and a look of determination. She trusted him completely. Daryl's chest tightened.

He continued, and Sammy didn't move this time as rough, callused fingers trailed along her face. Starting at her temple, brushing lightly through her hair, thumb trailing down her cheek bone, along her bottom lip, touch feather light. Her lip quivered at the contact, mouth parting slightly as her breath quickened. He spent a moment longer, rubbing gingerly at the soft, pink flesh and watching her reaction. A mix of confusion and anticipation. It was torture for the poor girl. Daryl moved his hand back along her face, her cheek resting perfectly in the palm of his hand as his fingers brushed just below her earlobe.

Even as he tilted her head upward, Sammy kept her eyes closed and stayed rooted where she stood. Daryl's thumb rubbed along her cheekbone idly, taking in the reddened face that obediently waited for him to make the first move. He leaned forward, heart hammering in his rib cage and echoing in his ears. He almost chickened out at the last second; he could pull away and say he was just messing with her, but the thought of doing so disgusted him. She deserved better than that, and he was determined to at least try. Finally, their lips made contact, and the man merely stood, suspended in time.

Sammy's lips puckered just so in response but she didn't otherwise move. Even as the man just stood there, lips applying the barest of pressure, she let him go at his own pace. She was on cloud nine, even if it reminded her painfully of her first, inexperienced kiss with no movement and awkward nerves. Unlike her first kiss, the sparks were still there; just the simple touch had her heart soaring.

Only when he pulled away did Sammy allow herself to move again. Her eyes fluttered open first, locking onto Daryl with a curious gaze as he took a step back. His hand dropped to his side, while Sammy lifted a hand to brush her fingers over her lips.

"I..." She had to clear her throat as her voice broke, cheeks turning scarlet as the embarrassment caught up with her. "I was under the impression that you didn't have those kinds of feelings for me."

The way she said it held no judgement or blame. It wasn't a question that demanded a response. It was just a simple statement. Just a confused thought she felt the need to voice.

"I dunno what I feel," Daryl admitted, eyes back on the plain, white paneling of the house that suddenly seemed so interesting. His hands found his pockets as his shoulders tensed, but they only lingered a second before his arms folded over his chest. "All I know is I almost died today."

"Daryl..." The name was breathless as it passed Sammy's lips, fear and worry and surprise mixing together in the single word.

"Lemme finish." It came out harsher than he had meant it to, regret crossing his features as he glanced back at Sammy. Her shock vanished as quickly as it had come, and she nodded somberly as she waited for him to continue. He averted his eyes again, staring down at the space between them.

"Sittin' in that damn car, sweating my ass off, surrounded by fuckin' lamebrains," he scoffed quietly, eyes narrowing as his boot kicked idly at the dirt beneath him. "Was sure that was the end for me and Aaron. Hell, probably would'a been, if Morgan hadn't come along and saved our asses."

Sammy didn't need to voice her assumption that Morgan was the newcomer they had brought with them. Daryl didn't give her a chance to, anyway. He lifted his gaze, blue eyes boring into her with such intensity that it sent shivers down her spine.

"Only thing I could think of in there was you."

Sammy's heart fluttered wildly in her chest at the confession. Was she really the last thing he thought of when he thought his life was about to end? It was both flattering and haunting to know.

"You havin' to get on without me... How I might not see your goofy smile light up your dumb face again... And that fuckin' kiss..." His thumb lifted to his mouth, and he rubbed lightly at his bottom lip. "Haven't been able to get that damn kiss outta my mind..." He looked equal parts angry and embarrassed, his face bright red as he gnawed away on the skin of his thumb.

Sammy took a step forward boldly, hand resting gently on the man's arm; she decided she would let that comment about her face being dumb slide for now. The muscles beneath her fingers jumped, but the rest of the man froze at the contact, gaze fixed on Sammy like a deer caught in headlights. She didn't say a word as she pulled his hand down, getting his abused thumb away from his mouth. As she wrapped her fingers delicately around his, her eyes dropped briefly to the appendages before lifting to meet his gaze again.

"I don't really know what I'm feeling, either," she admitted softly. Her gaze dropped to their hands, idly rubbing her thumb along his knuckles. "I know that I feel safer when you're near. I enjoy being around you, and I enjoy talking to you a lot; which is really weird for me, because small talk is the bane of my existence." That drew a quiet snort of laughter from the man, and Sammy smiled feebly as she lifted her head to look at him again. "I know you always seem to do these little things, I don't even think you realize it, and I get this compulsive urge to kiss you." Daryl turned red at that, but, to his credit, he didn't break eye contact. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I would like to figure it out with you." Her cheeks turned red as she looked away feebly. "I mean, if that's what you want to do."

"Yeah," Daryl answered, chewing lightly on his bottom lip as he watched Sammy's emotions play so openly across her face for him. She was just as new to all of this crap as he was. It made him feel a little better; a little less inadequate in her presence. "Yeah, I wanna do that..."

Sammy glanced up at him shyly, a smile pulling at her lips. Even after all this time, she still had difficulty reading him with things like this. Every time she weaseled passed one of his walls, two more seemed to pop up in front of her. Seeing him now, kneading his lip nervously between his teeth, she felt a renewed hope that he would finally start to let her in.

"Can I kiss you?" Sammy asked, voice barely above a whisper. She felt silly asking, but after her last attempt, she wasn't risking making a fool of herself twice. At least, not in that regard.

Daryl swallowed as his mouth suddenly went dry. His only response was a short nod. That's all the permission Sammy needed. She pushed herself onto the tips of her toes, her free hand resting on Daryl's cheek and guiding his face down to her. The kiss started as slowly as the first two, but Sammy decided to take it a step further this time. She parted her lips slightly, taking the man's bottom lip between hers and nibbling lightly on the flesh.

Daryl responded positively, releasing a breath through his nose as he leaned in closer, lips moving awkwardly in an attempt to match her movements. Sammy guided his hand to her hip as she shifted closer, holding it in place for a moment before letting her hand slide upward to rest on his forearm. She could feel the muscles tensing and relaxing beneath her fingers, but didn't feel the need to question the man's nerves. There were still a few inches separating their bodies, but neither dared to close the gap.

A moment passed, and Sammy broke the kiss. A dazed smile pulled at her lips, eyes closed as she savored the exchange just a moment longer. In just that short kiss, the man seemed to have improved exponentially. When she opened her eyes, she was met with stormy blue eyes and the most adorable smile she had ever seen plastered on Daryl's face.

"I really like kissing you," Sammy blurted out. Her cheeks turned red not a moment later, a bashful smile consuming her face.

Daryl chuckled quietly, ears taking on a hint of rogue. "Yeah?" he questioned, sounding just as dazed as Sammy felt.

Sammy hummed in affirmation, recovering from her embarrassment when she wasn't met with teasing. "I give you permission to kiss me whenever you feel like it," she decided with a nod. "Except, you know, during times when it's obviously a bad idea. Like, if we're being chased by a horde of zombies, or we're in the middle of a Mexican stand-off. Don't kiss me then, it'd probably get us both killed. Survival first."

Daryl swooped forward and stole another kiss from the girl, effectively ending her babbling. Both his hands on her waist held her in place as he pulled away, and he was met with another goofy grin that his mouth seemed to instinctively want to mirror. He just chuckled quietly as he managed to squish down a bit of the giddiness that _really_ kissing the girl seemed to fill him with.

"Don't go thinking you can do the same," he answered. The dejected look she shot him made his heart drop. When she tried to step back, he held her firmly in place. "I ain't a fan of PDA," he elaborated, awkwardly avoiding his gaze. He felt like an ass now, making her think he was rejecting her. _Again_.

"Oh," was the sheepish reply he got from the girl. "So, when we're alone, can I kiss you to my heart's content?"

Daryl stared down at her hopeful smile before averting his eyes once more. "I mean... Within reason, I guess." He wasn't sure how he felt about her trying to make out with him every time they were alone together. Sure, he was enjoying it now, but how long would it take to get tired of it if they were kissing all the time?

Sammy merely giggled in response, pushing herself upward to steal another quick kiss from the man. "You're an ass, but I won't take it personally."

Daryl lifted an eyebrow at her, but she just grinned and grabbed his hands, squeezing them lightly as she pulled herself out of his grasp. "If you'll excuse me now, I have a boring job to do that I pawned off on an unsuspecting bystander in order to, apparently, make out with a hot guy. That's not usually my style."

As she stepped away, Daryl grabbed at her belt loop and pulled her back. A sly grin pulled at his lips, his hands the only thing separating their hips from colliding. "I think Sasha can survive a 'lil bit longer," he decided, face hovering close to Sammy's. The shuddering breath that escaped the girl made Daryl's smile widen. He stole another soft kiss, parting to turn his head and try it from another angle, lips working deliberately around hers. The soft moan he received for his efforts stirred up strange feelings in his chest. Sammy curved into him, chest pressing against his in an attempt to get closer.

Daryl felt like he was suffocating. He broke the kiss abruptly, breathing ragged and pupils large as he stared down at Sammy. He swallowed, trying to accumulate enough saliva to make the action worthwhile as he released his hold on the girl. She didn't move for several lingering moments, matching his gaze with an intense look of her own.

Sammy bit her lip, stuffing her hands awkwardly into her pockets as she took a step back. After all this time, and the man still confused her. Still, she offered him a smile as she slowly retreated. "I'll see you around, Daryl," she stated. As though that wasn't a given.

The man simply nodded mutely in response. Without another word, Sammy turned on her heel and sped off toward the gates. As much as she would love to just hang out in a secluded place and make out with him until they were both blue in the face, she got the feeling that Daryl wouldn't be comfortable with that activity. It would definitely be a long work in progress, trying to get passed all of this walls. It was also something Sammy was willing to work at; she was happy to take it slow, if that's what Daryl needed. Just knowing that he wanted her in the same way she wanted him was more than enough to satisfy her.

With a skip in her step and an extra sway in her hips, Sammy left Daryl to ponder on exactly what he had gotten himself into. The man let his eyes roam over her body as she walked away, lingering longer on her legs and ass than anywhere else. She spelled trouble for him, that was for sure, but Daryl had always had a habit of getting into trouble. This time, he didn't think he minded so much.

* * *

 ** **Gaaah THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER IS JUST SO LAME AND CLICHE AND AWKWARD**. But I love it lol. /sappy, awkward romance is what I live for owo**

 **YES they have finally gotten together~! Happy day~ On another note, I MIGHT END UP WITH ANOTHER HIATUS SOON ;w; /I'm running out of prewritten chapters and I have been greatly neglecting this story between the stresses of a starving artist's life and my crippling depression... I'll try to pick it up again and get some good, fluffy content out, but I apologize in advance for the inevitable hiatus that this story will be taking soon... I also totally don't know where I'm going with this story, I have no clear ending in mind anymore. I started with a clear ending, but that was before season 6 so now my original plot for this story's ending just seems stupid and totally illogical and I can't have that;;;;  
**

 **While this story might end crappily merely because I find it too stressful to follow where TWD is going through seasons 6 and 7 +, and I lack the ability to come up with a decent ending within this story amidst all that chaos, I can promise plenty of other Daryl Dixon x Sammy stories in the future! I have several chapters written for one that starts out in season 1, an nonzombie AU that I can probably stretch out into at least a 5 chapter story, a highschool AU, and lots of short stories floating around in my mind. As well as a few other DarylxOC stories with new female protags other than Sammy (all awesome in their own right, but none that hold as special a place in my heart as Sammy~). So at least that's something to look forward to when this story falls flat on its face~ ;w;**

 **Whelp, until next week, my beautiful readers~!**


End file.
